The Soldier of Erebor
by kjate95
Summary: "It is not if I get caught... it is when." Under the disguise of a man, Lyra Fraser signs up for the City of Dale guard in an attempt to save her family from starvation come winter. But when the Dwarf kingdom of Erebor calls for aid from Dale, Lyra begins to realize that her plan may be much more complicated than she'd initially anticipated. Romance/adventure. Inspired by Mulan.
1. He Died on a Friday

**Chapter One – He died on a Friday**

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" _I wish it need not have happened in my time," said Frodo._

 _"So do I," said Gandalf, "and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us."_

― _J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring_

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He died on a Friday at the beginning of summer.

They laid him in the field behind the house, under an oak tree that he would sometimes lean upon to smoke his pipe. Freya sat beside her husband's grave and wept for all the loss in the world. All Lyra could do was watch from the kitchen window as her older sister clung to the grass and screamed to the heaven in a fit of wild and justified grief.

"Will Ma be okay?" asked Lyra's nephew, Jacob, in barely a whisper as he clutched his aunt's hand. Lyra knelt before the little boy and, pulling her sleeve over her hand, brushed away the tear tracks gently.

"Your Ma is a strong woman. She will be fine." Not one to comfort with well-meaning lies, Lyra truly believed this, as she knew the strength of heart her sister held deep down only to be used when the greatest need arose.

When the sun had disappeared behind the mountains to the east Lyra collected her sister from the damp ground and took her inside to sleep beside her children. Sad as it was but death was an old friend of these two girls, and so because of an understanding of the way of the world that only experience could grant; Freya never cried for her husband again.

Times grew tough for the family on the edge of Dale. Not long after her husband's death Freya discovered she was pregnant once again – and 12 weeks along as well. She had two children already: young Jacob of five years and Martha of two. Since Martha was born Freya had become pregnant one other time but lost the baby after 14 weeks, and so it was no surprise when both the sisters expected another miscarry.

But they made do. Freya could not work due to her young charges and so she tended to the strawberry bush in the garden and looked after the apple trees in the woods behind the field, planning on making jam when the fruit ripened to sell in the market at Dale. In her free moments she would spin wool bought for a reduced price from their neighbor Old Man Philip. He was sad to see Freya's husband die after knowing him since a young boy and so wanted to help out the two girls in any way he could.

Lyra thought that if he wanted to help that much than he could _give_ them the wool instead of selling it to them, but Freya said she was being unfair, as Old Man Philips had to make a living to.

Lyra was a young woman of twenty years, six years the junior of Freya at six and twenty. Since she was fourteen years of age Lyra had held a stable job as a maid at one of the lesser Lords houses; a man name Lord Hogarth. Many of such aristocracy, the ones who could trace their lineage and lordship back to before Smaug's attack, had decided to call Dale their home once again after the reclaim of Erebor sixteen years prior. Lyra and Freya themselves had moved from Esgaroth to Dale when Freya had married ten years previously.

Lyra earned a modest wage, one considered relatively high for a woman who wasn't working in a brothel, and with the money she was earning it meant that her sister and her niece and nephew wouldn't starve come winter. With the loss of Freya's husbands work as a bricklayer, a job that had always been needed and paid relatively well due to the rebuilding of Dale over the last decade, it meant working longer hours and putting in extra chores.

The summer passed quickly and the girl's gathered as much coin as they could, but it was barely enough. The jam was sour and sold for a pittance and when the apples fell from the trees come September there was hardly enough for the family, let alone for them to sell. Old Man Philips, however, had abundance to wool and so Freya found her finger blistered and her back aching for rest most evenings.

Lyra hardly slept over those months. The cottage where they lived was one large room and the children shared a bed with their mother which mean Lyra had a straw mattress to herself; not that it did any good. Lyra would often think herself into a sorry state about all the things that could happen and would happen come winter. The small family didn't have very many friends due to their cottages position right on the boarders of Dale, at the end of a long lane and just touching the forests edges.

Freya's husband had laid the house himself claiming that it was the perfect spot to raise a family, away from the centre of town but close enough so they could walk and be there within half an hour. Lyra had to disagree; with so little people who knew them this meant less support and less people to care when they froze to death on a cold January night.

When these nights of unease struck Lyra she would grab her fathers old bow, go out into the field, to the back where the oak tree stood and her brother-in-law lay, and fire arrow after arrow into the study wood. Sometimes she would see a rabbit scurry by and aim for that instead, and the next day the family would go to sleep with fuller bellies. But most of the time all that could be heard was the _clunck_ of the arrow striking the tree and the heavy breaths of a quick mind trying to figure out a big problem.

Lyra wasn't shy and she wasn't heartless, she just didn't feel that she had to fill silences with incessant chatter or kindly lies. Were she a lady she would have been called regal, but as a poor girl she was called insolent. If Lyra were to be described in one word, it would be practical – something she was very proud of. This sense of practicality meant that she knew what would happen come winter if Freya hadn't lost the baby by then; one more mouth to feed. Yet as the months wore on it looked less and less likely that her sister would miscarry.

At the end of September, with less than three months to go to the birth date, Lyra started to panic. This caused her to put extra effort into her work and extra care when she spoke to her sister. Freya knew the risk of having another child but it was too late to change anything, and in all honesty Lyra didn't think her sister could ever go ahead and purposely miscarry a child. Unlike her younger sister, Freya felt before she thought. Despite her impractical nature her sister's kind heart made Lyra determined do all she could to make sure the little babe would make it to spring.

Hour after hour, day after day Lyra worked for a greedy lord and his greedy daughter. She tidied up after them, washed their clothes, waited on their guests and served them their food. The lack of sleep meant for poor work but if she cut down on her time then there wouldn't be enough money to feed five. She thought that if her employers had cared for much past their fancy clothes and easy money they might have noticed that their floors weren't as clean as they could be or their windows as shinny, but they didn't say anything so she assumed they hadn't noticed her mistakes. It wasn't until an important event that all the hard work, all the sleepless nights and all the nervous twitches would catch up with her and come crashing down.

"Lyra!" screamed Lady Fiona in a shill voice. "I told you to clean my red ribbon you, silly girl. Oh this just won't do I'll have to wear the burgundy one now instead. Fix it, quickly now." Lady Fiona snapped her fingers at Lyra impatiently and Lyra, like the submissive maid she had trained herself to be, didn't even hesitate. Fiona had always taken a sick pleasure in bossing Lyra about; thinking herself prettier and more superior than her. In all fairness Lady Fiona was both.

The young woman, about Lyra's age, seemed to believe the world revolved around her, and the way men followed her about and simpered after the heiress seemed to instill this fact into her silly, little mind. But it was no wonder as compared to Lyra's sharp, angular face and dark, straight hair Fiona had a smooth, round face that just screamed wealth, red luscious lips and hair the same color to match. Although her father was a minor lord, Lady Fiona was practically queen of gossip and knew all there was to know about everyone and everything, meaning she had more standing in Dale than her heritage might suggest.

Lyra had played maid to Lady Fiona's tea parties between the other nobles in the town since she was a girl of fourteen and because of this she was also privy to knowledge involving gossip about everyone and everything. She might not have had a high-class education, but Lyra had a sharp memory and so knew a number of interesting things about a number of very rich lords and ladies.

"This feast tonight up in the main hall is very important and Daddy said he'd introduce me to the Princes of Erebor, don't you know. I need everything to be perfect!"

"My Lady," curtsied Lyra as she rushed to fix Lady Fiona's hair and brush down her dress. Fiona stood and pushed the maid away without care, looking at herself in her personal floor length mirror (a sign of excessive wealth).

Later that night Lyra stood at the back of the hall and helped the other servants serve the food and drink to the rich men and important delegates and then when the Dwarfs arrived she was also serving the rich dwarves and their important delegate. The whole evening, for a servant such as Lyra, was awfully boring. She hid a yawn behind her hand as she watched the collection of the two races compete between themselves and each other over riches and pretty wives.

She probably would have found the whole event very amusing, watching egos clash and pride damaged, if not for the direr situation her family was in, and thus the subsequent flaunting of wealth among those who could afford and the waste of money on the festivities left a bitter taste within her mouth. But, being the stoic person she was, she pushed down her feelings and completed her job.

She was told by one of the other serving girls that, as well as the king of Dale being in attendance, the king under the mountain was also there that evening. Some of the servants seemed to be in a bit of a state over the unexpected show of foreign royalty. Over the course of the evening Lyra interacted with King Thorin once as she refilled his Goblet during the meal. While she lent over his shoulder to pour his drink he held up his hand to indicate that that would be all, and Lyra stepped back to move onto the next empty wine glass. As she did Lyra accidently made eye contact with the dwarf king and probably, she contemplated later when she was alone, looked like a scared rabbit as he glanced over his shoulder casually at her. His look was intense but he nodded his thanks gently with a slight tilt of the head and then turned back to his conversation as if he hadn't just given the poor girl a rather unplanned heart attack.

Lyra thought, very briefly, how handsome the Erebor royalty was and noted that they seemed to stand slightly taller than most dwarfs. The two princes were of light and dark hair; the blond haired one who Lyra thought was Prince Fili had rich blue eyes and a plaited mustache framing a smiling face, and Prince Kili was what would typically be described as having rugged good looks, a glint of mischievousness in his eyes. The king was of a different sort; regal and strong in build, with a brooding stare and a strong jaw. King Thorin didn't have a long beard like a lot of dwarf folk but instead opting to keep it trimmed and neat, with long hair that had a number of small braids with beads plaited in.

As the night wore on and the party didn't seem to have an end in sight, Lyra found her eyes drooping heavily under the dull candlelight that illuminated the hall. Fearing she may collapse from exhaustion she found a seat in the corner of the hall, hidden away and snug behind a large support beam, and far enough away from Lady Fiona that she wouldn't notice her handmaiden's laziness - if the self-absorbed noble noticed Lyra's absence at all.

For the most of the evening Lyra had been standing a few feet behind the spoilt Lady, refilling her goblet and blending into shadows. At the beginning of the evening the Lady Fiona was constantly clicking for her maid, but as the night wore on and the Lady's goblet was several times emptied, Fiona took less and less notice of Lyra's presence and more attention fell on to unsuspecting royalty. Lyra almost pitied them.

Since arriving, Lady Fiona had been trying her hardest to get into the good graces of the two dwarf princes. Although uncommon it was not unheard of for the races of dwarfs and humans to intermingle and make marriage contract between lords and ladies. After all, the dwarfs in the mountains had no fields to work on to produce food nor the skill to work the land handed down from generation to generation that the children of men had. Thus every once in a while it was a benefit for the dwarfs to marry a rich lord with many fields and peasants under their instructions.

It is important to note that this practice was more common with minor dwarf lords who had little prospects within the mountain and so found a rich abundance externally. It was neither a popular practice nor a very highly regarded one but was so beneficial to the kingdom to have a claim to crop yield in the surrounding area that any disgust at having to marry a human was generally overlooked for profit. The greed of the dwarves should never be sneered at. Of course any offspring would generally be considered of the race of men – but just slightly shorter than average and an impressive beard to match; although the beard was not very common in women.

Of course, there was also a benefit in times of war to marry between races to create strong alliances. Unfortunately for Lady Fiona she was neither a rich lady with lots of land nor was there any wars approaching in the near future. Thus Fiona's effort, and the band of Lady's that were also following at the princes heal, simply looked ridiculous to Lyra and probably to most of the dwarfs and men present. In that moment she despised her own sex as they simpered and pranced over a pretty face – for she was not denying that the two princes were unusually attractive for dwarves.

Lyra remained seated for as long as her absence would not be a burden and when she felt that time had passed she prepared herself to continue her night's work. It was getting awfully late and she hoped that Lord Hogarth would soon intend to leave, but as he seemed to be in a deep conversation with a delegate from Lake Town she did not count her luck. Lyra lent down to pick up the wine jug at her feet and just as she moved to stand a deep laugh was heard from the other side of the support beam she had hidden herself behind.

"Oh brother, I am sick of these foolish women," said the deep voice.

"The women I could not get sick of, but the foolishness I could do without," agreed a second voice, very similar to the first.

"Certainly, Kili, if you should go a month without a woman in your bed chamber then I would worry about your wellbeing!" said the first voice again. With the mention of names, and a sinking feeling in the young girls stomach, Lyra risked a quick glance to the other side of the pillar and was displeased to have her suspicions confirmed as the two dwarf princes stood hardly an arm span away from her hidden form.

She thought she might risk quickly standing and moving along, but she knew she would not get away unnoticed as this part of the hall was not crowded and obviously why the brothers had chosen such a spot to have a private conversation. It was to either stand now and surely be seen and possibly be scolded for a poor job (as some nobles thought it their duty to instruct and discipline lesser people when out of line, and she knew nothing of the sort of people these princes were) or take a chance and stay put and hope they soon leave.

Lyra's legs still ached from all the standing and her eyes still felt heavy, and so it was these factors that convinced the exhausted girl that it was best to stay put for now.

"What of you brother, has anyone of these ladies caught your eye?" questioned the voice, Prince Kili Lyra assumed.

"I know Thorin wants me to marry soon, but I couldn't abide by marrying any of these women," Fili replied with amusement. "And what of you? That rounder woman seems to be… interested in you." The older prince spoke with laughter and mocking in his voice that caught Lyra's ear and made her listen. After spending so many years listening to Fiona's tea parties she found no guilt in eavesdropping on nobles; their problems rarely affected anyone but the upper circles and it could be interesting to listen to idle gossip to whittle away the time. Besides, if she heard some backhanded comment from the prince about one of Fiona's "rivals" then in relaying this information she could gain a tip.

Lyra caught her train of thought quickly and sat up with a frown. She sounded like a sniveling underling looking for approval from a higher up; like that creep Alfred who followed the king of Dale around like a child waiting for a treat. These scolding thoughts, however, did not prevent Lyra from listening still as she was ever the opportunist.

"Lady Fiona you mean?" Kili laughed outright at the idea and Lyra cocked her eyebrow in displeasure. She may not be particularly fond of the Lady but she had been her stable employer for many years and the ill words against her did not sit well in the young girl's stomach. "She is a fool to think we might be interested in her father's position, and even more of a fool to think we might be interested in her! If I have to pry her arm away from mine one more time I may go mad."

The two brother's laughed together at the expense of the lady and Lyra sat back in her chair with a huff. She did understand where the princes were coming from, as Fiona was being particularly forward and silly tonight, but she thought their words could have been kinder. The laugher soon died and a heavy atmosphere quickly replaced it.

"Have you heard about Gloin?" questioned Fili with sudden seriousness that Lyra didn't expect from such a joyous face.

"Yes, the relationship with Urbem-upon-Celduin has not improved. They have always been a temperamental race of men but with the reclaim of Erebor…"

"I know," Fili's voice fell to a hush that meant Lyra had to lean slightly forward to listen to the next words. "Mother has said that there is a high chance that one of us will have to be wed to one of the women of Urbem to secure the trade route across the Celduin and for our mutal support with the influx of attacks. She says they will only accept an engagement."

There was a sharp intake of breath before Kili spoke. "When she say's one of us…"

"She means you." Fili was not gentle in his explanation but the inflection in his voice explained clearly that he did not plan to let that happen. There was a heavy silence that followed this revelation as the brothers thought on the issues at hand. Lyra contemplated what it was she knew about the city of Urbem that she had either heard in public houses or from the many conversations Lady Fiona held over the years.

It was exactly due south-east of Dale on the south side of the River running. It was the only other city other than Dale and Esgaroth that sat on the river and as such if one wanted to send goods, too heavy for horseback, down the river to the Iron hills then a toll must be paid. If one simply wanted to trade south then you must pass through the city lest your journey be made significantly more difficult by the lack of respite or sales opportunity. Not to mention it held one of the few bridges between the north and the south of the river.

Yes, Lyra understood that Urbem could make trade very difficult or excessively easy for Erebor, and that a marriage between the cities would be very wise.

She then thought on the military benefits that Urbem might give Erebor. The dwarf kingdom was barely even a city as the population was so thin compared to what it once was, therefore the military power was sure to be lacking. There was, of course, the Iron hills just due east of the lonely mountain and the Grey mountains north-west but a southern alliance would give the city a much more secure position and would quickly deter any attacks on the area. From what Prince Fili spoke of the 'influx of attacks' this meant that there was obviously a growing issue from orcs and with the rumors from Mordor it would obviously be something the royalty of the lonely mountain were concerned about.

Equally it would benefit the people of Urbem to have an alliance with Erebor as there was nothing but wasteland between their city and the mountain rage of Mordor. Their king would be growing equally as concerned with the rumors that filled every tavern and town-hall between Mordor to the Grey Havens. Lyra may not have had a fancy education, but she was bright and could understand a lot of what she heard.

Lyra was so lost in thought contemplating the princes words that she didn't hear the approaching footsteps nor the high pitched laugh that accompanied it, until it was too late.

"Oh my Lords, there you are! Is the party not to your liking?" questioned the voice of none other than Lady Fiona. Lyra swallowed heavily and deeply regretted not having made the dash to the other side of the room earlier. Like a frozen deer startled by a hunter Lyra couldn't make her brain process fast enough to come up with an idea to quickly retract herself from the situation.

"Not at all my Lady," Prince Fili said civilly. "Simply taking a moment away from the crowds." Fiona, with all the grace of a lesser Lady, obviously chose not to take the hint, and Lyra expected nothing less from her noble patron.

"Oh well I suppose it is much nicer over here, I think I'll take a seat." There was a slight slur in her voice and a stumble in her step that told of the excessive wine consumption of the evening. Too late, however, did Lyra comprehend what the Lady had said and before she could stand Lady Fiona had stumbled past the pillar to sit down on the bench further up the wall. Before she made it, unfortunately, the Lady spotted her seated servant and began to turn a very strange shade of pink.

"What do you think you are doing?" questioned the Lady with so little grace Lyra had a hysterical thought that she might as well have been an inn-keeper daughter for all the nobility she was displaying. This thought didn't, however, stop Lyra from quickly rising to her feet, forgotten wine jug still in her hands, and bowing her head in submission.

"Apologies my lady, I was simply resting my feet." Lyra felt the top of her ears turning red and the eyes of both the princes on the back of her neck. She knew that they knew that she had heard all they had said and prayed to the Valar that there would be no consequence for her eavesdropping.

"I do not pay you to rest your feet," sneered the Lady. _You do not pay me at all, your father does,_ thought Lyra, but she kept this particular witty remark to herself.

"No my Lady you do not," she said instead, still with her head bowed, but she caught out the corner of her eye her mistress look to the dwarf princes in embarrassment at her servant's behavior.

"You will get no coin from my house this evening, child." Fiona was obviously mortified that the princes had witnessed her servant's disobedience and was trying to rectify the situation quickly, but failed as the princes glanced disapprovingly at the harsh actions against her employee. Fiona thought the disappointment was directed at Lyra, however, and looked rather pleased with herself.

Lyra had blanked at Lady Fiona calling her child as she was twenty-year-old woman and in fact older than the Lady herself, a point Lyra knew that Fiona was aware of. When it registered in her slow mind that she had lost her pay for the evening Lyra took a deep breath and tried to exhale her resentment at the spoilt girl. It was exceedingly difficult however and Lyra found the need to escape from the situation as quickly as would allow.

"Of course, my Lady," Lyra spoke respectfully, but anyone were listening closely they could hear a bitter bite. "If you take a seat I will get you a drink."

Lyra started to walk away from the corner and in the direction of the serving table at the other side of the room, determined not to look at the princes. She didn't think they would call her out on her eavesdropping, as one of the subject of their conversation was standing right before them, but she didn't want to chance grabbing the attention of two very rich dwarfs who could make her life even more difficult than it currently was if they thought they had been wronged. She was concentrating very hard on getting away that she didn't notice Fiona's hand reach out to grab her arm as she walked passed; the same arm that was half-full of warm, red wine, and because of this Lyra was not in the slightest prepared for what happened next.

"Wait one minute-" whatever the Lady was about to say would never be known as she was cut off by the contents from the wine jug, forced out from the jolting of Lyra's arm, coming in contact with her plump face.

After this it was simply a blur of screaming and crying on Lady Fiona's part; fussing and dark looks on Lord Hogarth's part; stuttering and dread on Lyra's part and, if Lyra was to recall correctly, sniggering from the two princes who stood in the corner and seem to be enjoying the show.

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 **Thank you for giving the story a chance! I'll be updating weekly hopefully. This project has been in the works for years now and I'm excited to finally be able to publish the first chapter. Please review and let me know what you think!**

 **And if I unintentionally to get any lore wrong then please let me know. I am also not fantastic at spelling and grammar so please forgive the little mistakes, and if there are any big ones then please let me know! I am open to anyone that is interested in Betaing the story.**


	2. Heavy Bones

**Chapter two – Heavy Bones**

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" _ **We are all subject to the fates. But we must act as if we are not, or die of despair." ― Philip Pullman, The Golden Compass**_

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"I've lost my job haven't I?" questioned Lyra in a monotonous voice, eyes wide as she stared at the floor, still in shock from the unfortunate events of the last few moments of the evening. They were back at the Lords house and were situated in the front room. Lyra stood in front of her employers like a child waiting to be scolded as the Lord stared down at her with distaste and the Lady stormed from one edge of the room to the other, pausing briefly every now and then to sneer at the peasant before her.

"Of course you-" shouted Fiona with a deranged look as the black paint once decorating her eyes rolled down her cheeks in long tracks.

"Now, now dear, you are a lady," scolded her father gently, "I'll deal with this." Lord Hogarth's eyes fixed on Lyra with a keenness that made the girl think that perhaps her employer had in fact noticed the poor job she had been doing of late. "Of course you've lost your job," he spat.

"Over the past months you have been doing an exceedingly poor job, don't think I haven't noticed. Tonight was the final straw with both your inattentiveness and clumsy mistaken which has put us in ridiculous light in front of the _princes_ of _Erebor_. Everything else could have been overlooked, but with the image you have displayed to royalty. No, we could not possibly have such an embarrassment working for us." Lord Hogarth gave a sneer Lyra thought very ugly.

It struck her that she had spent the last six year of her life in this house and that this would probably be the last time she would stand in its halls. She realized that although they had been in each other company most days for those years neither Lord Hogarth nor Lady Fiona seemed at all grieved to see her go. Lyra had been loyal and fair and hard working for the ungrateful family and yet they simply did not value this; the hours of her life seemed meaningless to these pompous nobles. This didn't make Lyra sad; it made her angry - very angry.

Lyra wasn't someone that got angry. She was patient and calm in most situations and would think before she acted; she wasn't like Freya after all. But there was something in their dismissal and general disregard for her work that made something tick. And so with quick motion the young girl pulled the pinafore off of her dress and flung it at the Lord of the house with bitterness.

"You are ungrateful swine," hissed Lyra, voicing years' worth of resentment she hadn't realized she had been hording. The pride that she had bent to serve these two fools would bend no more, and it sprung back with a force ready to take on an army. "How dare you treat me as such. Your arrogance does not become you well and simply brings out a foolishness that should be kept in dark corners where you might not infect the city of Dale's streets with your putrid presence. I do not regret the years of service as it has gifted me with an experience and outlook of a greed and gracelessness I do not wish to replicate. You are noble in name and wealth but nothing else; a farm boy would have more respect for his fellow human being."

The Lady and Lord stood staring at the usually meek woman with a look of thunder struck awe. Little did they know that they had all but doomed Lyra's family to a winter of starvation, but had they known it it would probably have done little to ease their surprise at the sudden and intense anger they had unleashed. Had they been less surprised at the time they would have been up in arms about Lyra's disregard for there station, but it would not be until later, when Lyra was long gone, that they would truly feel insulted by her words.

Lyra was a good actress. She had played the obedient maid for far too long and, now they had cast her aside for a simple mistake after years of loyalty, she would stand for their superiority no longer.

The fiery anger mildly abated so that her temperament fell, once again, to her usual cool and detached air. Out of pride Lyra stood with a high chin that looked down on the people in front of her with disdain. She realized in this moment how much she admired her sister's kindness, and that this is the one thing she respected above all else in people; and thus this Lord and Lady deserved none of her respect. "I thank you for your money and experience. Goodbye." And with that she turned upon her heel and walked to the door.

Lyra was not a spiteful person, but she was someone who took revenge for the wrongs done against her. Maybe it was the stress of the past months or maybe it was the bitterness of the dismissal, but whatever it was that caused the next few words to tumble out of Lyra's mouth it wouldn't be for a while yet before the impact of this action would truly be understood. So she stopped when she reached the door and glanced over her shoulder carelessly.

"If you were interested, my Lady, I heard the princes this evening talking about yourself."

"Oh?" question Fiona hesitantly, like someone approaching a strange dog, curious to know more but wary of an unexpected bite.

"Yes, they said how ridiculous you were."

And with these words she left.

!

The next day, while the children were playing in the garden and Freya was slaving over her spinning, Lyra explained to her sister that she'd lost her job. The why's and what for's were brushed over quickly before Lyra left to collect the weekly wool from Old man Philips. When she returned she found Freya playing with the children as if nothing were wrong and the sight caused an ache of shame in the younger sisters heart. When the sisters, later that evening, had put the children to bed they sat in the small kitchen illuminated by the fireplace and tried to make sense of the world.

"And there's no chance they'll take you back?" Freya asked and yet she already knew the answer.

"None, not after what I said to them when I left," explained Lyra somberly. "They did not seem all that angry at my words befpre, but they will surely be now they've had time to think on them. I would be surprised if I could find a respectable job anywhere now with the malicious rumor's Fiona is surely spreading around." A heavy silence fell over the room then, broken only by the occasion snap of wood in the hearth.

"What are we going to do Lyra?" Freya whispered into her hands despairingly; staring but seemingly not seeing the cup of tea that sat cold and untouched on the kitchen table before her. She perched on the edge of her stall as if ready to jump at a moments notice, tense to her bones with the whole world seemingly on her shoulders.

"We'll get by," Lyra crocked from across the room, leaning against the counter clutching an empty mug with one hand while the other arm snaked across her middle as if to hold herself together – just in case.

"You've just lost your job!" stressed the older sibling. The woman's eyes closed tightly shut as she tried to rein in her emotions. "Maybe if we'd had that. Maybe then we could have made it. It was enough to get by – it was a good job for a woman. You could have supported the family. We'd be hungry but we wouldn't starve-" Freya rocked back on the stool and looked to the heavens with wide eyes as she blinked away the unwanted tears.

"We'll not starve!" Lyra stood to her full height and walked towards her sister in earnest. She placed both hands on the side of her older sister face and forced the woman, mother, widow, to look into her eyes. "I know this is tough but I'll make this work."

Freya looked to the woman before her and gave a watery smile. She mirrored her sister and placed both hand on Lyra's cheeks, who now kneeled before her in an attempt to calm her down, "I know you'll try pet, but I can't see how you'll-"

"Freya," Lyra whispered, leaning toward her and placing their forehead together. "You know what might have to happen. What… what I might have to do."

Freya pulled away and looked to her little sister with a wary frown that bordered on pity. "No one of any worth will marry you with no dowry and no job. We're practically beggars now," she said gently.

Despite the desperate and depressing situation Lyra gave a humorless snort of a laugh. "I don't think I'd want to marry anyone of what the Dale people might consider 'worth'. I was more thinking along the line of a job I could do…" Lyra attempted to smile at her sister by instead gave a grimace of distaste.

"No!" Freya cried when she realized what her sister was saying, obviously insulted and outraged at the suggestion. "No! I will not let you sell your _body_!"

"I don't think we have any other options." Lyra stood and began twisting her hands in her dress, trying to look at anything but the scared gaze of her older sister's eyes. "Winter is coming and we'll have five mouths to feed. I can't go jobless." She turned away and faced the fireplace as she gritted her teeth.

"Even if that is an option," came Freya's soft voice from behind, "you're not experienced enough, _at all_ , to work alone. You'd have to go the _Dancing Mermaid_ in town. You know that brothel women hardly make anything."

Lyra sagged as if all the energy had left her; both in relief at her idea being shot down and to expel any lingering hope that they might survive the winter. She leaned her forearm on the stone mantle piece and closed her eyes softly, the heat of the flames in the hearth touching her face as she thought deeply.

They went to bed that night with heavy bones and worried thoughts.

!

Freya was woken from her restless sleep that night to the face of her sister hovering just above her in the dark. She gestured to be quiet so not to wake the children and so Freya did as she bid and followed Lyra into the kitchen area – separated from the sleeping space a curtained door.

"What is it?" Freya asked as she wiped sleep from her eyes and wrapped the shawl tighter round her shoulders. The fire had died down to subtle embers and the kitchen sat in darkness apart from a candle that rested in the centre of the table that Lyra had lit and the odd slither of moonlight that snaked through the windows and bounced off the wooden floor.

"I know what I need to do," said Lyra with excitement. Freya looked to her sister dubiously but took a seat at the table nonetheless to hear her idea out. Lyra looked exhausted meaning she obviously hadn't yet slept and Freya saw their father's old bow leaning against the wall besides the door. Lyra must have been practicing again to still her anxious thoughts and with the moon almost full the field would be lit up beautifully by the midnight light. These thought of the field were scattered, however, as Lyra began to explain her idea. When she was done Freya looked at her with horror and a sick feeling in her stomach.

"You're mad," breathed the older sister. "If you get caught the best bet is 20 lashes and a heavy fine we could not pay, and at worse…" Freya drifted off, not able to voice the notion of her sister's execution.

"It is not if I get caught; it is when," Lyra said with a determination Freya hadn't seen in years. "But it is the only way. I'll be careful and I'll make it till the other side of winter at least."

"No, there has to be another way…" Freya's voice caught in her throat as she realized that; no, there was no other way. "The risk is too high. What would I do it you're killed or found out and sent to prison? You'll be no help behind bars." She was frantic in fear and leaned forward onto the table to get across her point. She knew that Lyra would follow through with this; she could see it in her eyes. Earlier when she had admitted to Freya that she was jobless she could see the deep shame and bitterness in her younger sisters.

Since Freya's husbands death Lyra had taken it upon herself to hold together the family and to make sure they survived the year. Freya thought that Lyra needn't have put so much upon herself but she also knew that if Lyra hadn't done that then they would be in a worse position than before. The most important thing in the world to this mother was her children and Lyra knew this and would do anything for her sister.

"And this family will be no use to anyone dead." Lyra reached over and held onto Freya's hand. "It's the only way to make it through the winter, to make it long enough for you to have the baby and find a job of your own. By the end of winter people will have forgotten about Lady Fiona's maid and I'll be able to find another job suitable for a woman. But for now; this is all we can do."

They sat in silence for the rest of the night and when the sun broke over the trees Lyra finally stirred to grab a knife from the counter.

"Would you…?" asked Lyra as she gestured to the knife in her hand. Freya stood from her seat and grabbed the blade in her shaking hand and went to stand behind her sister.

"Are you sure?" Freya checked, knife ready to slice. Lyra gave a barely noticeable nod and with none of the hesitance that had been there before Freya drew the knife through Lyra beautiful long hair. It fell to the floor in clumps of black silk but Freya did not stop in her task to mourn the loss for her sister. When the heartbreaking job was complete Lyra pulled out the chest of Freya's husbands old clothes and located a tunic and pair of trousers. When she was done dressing up, Freya observed how much she looked like their father, but kept her thoughts to herself. The young twenty-year-old lass was gone and what replaced it, not even Freya could guess.

When the sun was at a reasonable height in the sky Lyra left to sign up for the city guard.

!

The barracks on the edge of Dale were part of the old city which hadn't been completely destroyed when the dragon attacked all those years ago. The foundations and lower levels were almost completely intact, the chiseled stone placed in an unsymmetrical way arranged in a large rectangular grounds with a courtyard in the middle. On the long side stood the gate, a stone arch with a finely crafted key stone with the crest of some house that on longer existed. Large oaken doors that were closed from dusk to noon protected the innards of the barracks.

Lyra approached the barracked with false bravado and hardly blinked as she passed under the impressive stones. The courtyard was a bustling of people, mostly dressed in the city guards attire, but there were the odd people like herself; clearly civilian. In the far corner of the courtyard there was a line of ten or so normal people, all male, some were boys five years her junior and other were men twice the size of her petit form. She approached the line knowing that this was where she would sign to join and stood looking as unobtrusive as possible.

A young boy with dark hair, more than a head shorter than herself and sprouting an impressive beginning of a beard considering his young age, stood in front of her rocking on the balls of his feet in eager anticipation. His wide eyes followed the guards around the barracks until they landed on Lyra, whereupon he gave the young girl a beaming smile.

"You're signing up for the guard too?" asked the boy with exuberance. Lyra simply nodded and returned the smile somewhat hesitantly. This just caused the boy to smile wider and hold out his hand in greeting.

"Thomas Halder, how do you do?" he introduced. Lyra took the offered hand hesitantly, never having been offered to shake someone's hand before. Usually women were either ignored or nodded to respectfully, but never were they permitted to shake the hand of a male.

"Luke Fraser," Lyra spoke with as much conviction as she could muster. She thought hard about what name she would give on her way there and had decided on something similar to Lyra so that she wouldn't get confused. Were she to respond to someone calling her name then 'Luke' and 'Lyra' were a close enough connection that she shouldn't rise suspicions. Fraser, her family name, Freya and her had decided to keep the same. Their family was so little known that not very many would be surprised to find out they had a brother.

"How many summers have you seen?" Thomas ask conversationally. "I've seen fifteen, but I'll be sixteen this winter and you look about my age I'd about say." It was clear Thomas did not think before he spoke but simply and innocently said what he thought.

"I'm sixteen," Lyra replied, both humoring the young boy and thinking that this was a good excuse to explain her slight form. She had known a number of the kitchen boys at the lord's house that had not grown bulk until they had reached their last teens and even then some remained slim their whole life. Lyra was well into womanhood but had not yet gained many curves or much of a bosom. Lady Fiona had liked to point this out to Lyra and tell her that it made her look like a child and were it not for her taller height then Lyra may have been inclined to believe her. Lyra would not describe herself as a vain person but her lack of womanly attributes made her somewhat self-conscious, however now she thanked her boy-like body which may be her family's salvation.

The line shortened quickly as each person at the front was led away to stand under the awning by the armory. Nervous, Lyra reached up to play with her hair but startled herself when she realized it wasn't their anymore. She instead ran her finger through the half inch of hair that was all that was left of her once beautiful dark locks. Thomas stepped up next and stated his name and intention to join the guard. The man behind the desk looked up from his parchment and quill, assessed the boy before him and nodded, beckoning for him to join the others.

Lyra, knowing this would be the first test of many, took a deep breath. The binding around her small breasts constricted her breathing somewhat but she steeled herself nonetheless. "Luke Fraser to apply for the city guard." Her voice was clear but she made a conscious effort to deepen her voice somewhat.

"You're a bit scrawny," commented the man on the desk, smiling mockingly through a well groomed moustache.

"I'm strong," Lyra insisted, squashing the panic that was rising in her chest.

"We'll see," the guard commented, wrote her alias-name on the parchment, and beckoned her to join Thomas. Lyra let out a sign of relief and went to stand by her new acquaintance. After a few moments the man who had been taking the names, who Lyra would later learn was Sargent Walker, ordered the new recruits to line up with a loud shout to which the 20 men gathered followed instantly.

He seemed somewhat bored with the proceedings and yet displayed an impressive figure stood in front of the untrained group.

"You are not forced to be here and remain here," he told the group seriously, looking each of them in the eye intensely as he continued his speech. "There will be 2 weeks of intense training where we will assess your skills and deem whether you are fit to serve the King of Dale. In this time, you may leave whenever you wish." Sargent Walker stepped to the side and with a wave of his arm gestured to the barracks gate which lead into the streets of Dale. "Understand this, we need soldiers but we are not desperate. If you are not up to the task, then you will be asked to leave. We are a small army but serious in our pursuits. We ask for obedience, respect and unquestioning loyalty. Is this understood?"

There were a few mummers throughout the recruits, the company clearly having been lolled in to a false sense of security by the disarming nature of their Sargent.

"I said is this understood?!" Sargent Walker barked out at the recruits, his short patience having worn out quickly.

"Yes Sir!" answered the company, backs straightening in shock. They were then instructed to follow a short, burley man to find the sleeping quarters and get settled. Lyra walked beside Thomas quietly, concern bubbling beneath the surface as she thought on the Sargent's words about those not being up to the task being removed from the training. Lyra was aware she was what was deemed 'the less superior sex' but she was tall and considered herself strong. She didn't know how intensive the training would be but she knew she would push herself to the limit of her capabilities and then some.

The Sargent seemed like a reasonable man, tired of his responsibility and the difficulty of training an army from the ground up. Dale's military was small to say the least; relying heavily on the generosity a partnership with Erebor for protection. The city guard was a profession few chose: many people having been brought up in a particular trade and reluctant to branch out. The people of Esgagoth and Dale were a reserved population and the King of Dale had struggled to raise enough people to protect the city sufficiently.

Lyra was brought from her musing by Thomas grinning up at her through his sketchy beard and dark lashes. Taking more of a look at him Lyra realized that this young man was half dwarf. Not something unusual in a Dale and considering his age she imagined that he was a result of post-battle adrenaline (at least that is what her sisters husband had explained to her when she's questioned it years ago).

"I think I'm going to like it here," the half-dwarf whispered to her. "Lets stick together, yeah?" The olive branch Thomas extended to her made the girl blink a few times but give a small smile in return. He was a brash lad with a jovial spirit but Lyra thought she detected some hesitance in the boy. Half-dwarfs, although common, were sometimes sneered at by people and so Thomas was probably wary of such prejudice.

Lyra nodded at Thomas. She liked him but more importantly she recognized the need to build bridges and make a good impression upon those in the barrack.

And so begun two of the most physically exhausting weeks of her life.

!

 **Thank you so much to those people who read and reviewed; I'm so happy you've already started to enjoy the story and I appreciate you're feed back soo much! Please let me know what you think of this chapter and the characters. At the moment I'm just trying to set the scene and build the characters but I think the story will be all the better for it.**

 **Again, sorry for any errors and please let me know if you spot any and I'll change them. Until next week!**


	3. The Soldier of Dale

**Chapter Three – The Soldier of Dale**

 **!**

 ** _"A lack of common sense usually ends in some heroic feat, much like the soldier who dives onto the grenade so that others may live."_** ** _― Criss Jami, Killosophy_**

 **!**

!

Lyra had to be smart about this. Camaraderie between the men was a crucial part of any cooperation and communication amongst the soldiers. On the first night the sleeping quarters were given out; two to a room. This meant Lyra just had to fool only one person to make sure her secret wasn't found out too easily. Thomas fortunately ended up being her bed mate and, as luck would have it, was rather oblivious and as such Lyra found it particularly easy to hide her real gender though nifty little tricks which she perfected as the two weeks progressed.

She would sleep in her wrappings and only take them off to re-bandage herself before dawn struck. The bathes only happened once a week anyway and once they had been poured were left out for the night for the men to come and go as they pleased. She waited for everyone to have gone to bed, washed for a total for 30 seconds in the once warm but since turned frigid water, and was back in her clothing before anyone had even noticed she'd gone.

She typically kept quiet, did what she was told and played the part, once again, of obedience. The days were as follows: wake up at dawn, exercises, fulfill chore around the barracks, exercise, lunch, weapons training, supper, sleep. By the end of the day Lyra and the rest of the men had no energy to be found and so free time, although not available, was also not necessary.

The exercises were mostly strength and endurance and Lyra was surprise to find she was not the worse there was. Her strength was not much to be desired; being able to lift the bare minimum. They would all go into the courtyard and be tasked to lift bricks above their head and pull their chins up to a bar held between two brick walls. At first she could not do even this and many of the men had made remarks at her weakness. Thomas, who had immense strength due to his heritage, however only had patience for his weaker dorm mate and gave her tips and coached her through the strength exercise which came to him as easily as a fish to water.

In endurance training she did not fall behind as much. They would run or hike for long amounts of times up and down the shore of the lake and she found she could keep up relatively well. She attributed this to the long walk to and from her house to Dale everyday and the long hours she'd spend on her feet following every whim of lady Fiona. Lyra found herself somewhat proud of her endurance and Thomas, who did not excel as well as her in this area, was grateful for the help and motivation. They were told that if they were to pass and become real soldiers then they would have to go onto a treks into the wilderness as scouting parties if they were put into the footman. Sometimes they would carry half their weight on their back and in this Lyra struggled hugely and her back ached from the force.

Her new friend in Thomas was not deterred by her appearing quiet nature and whenever possible would draw her into conversations about her life and experiences.

The story she told was simple and easy to remember. She was born a Fraser in Lake Town, moved to Dale when her sister wed and Lyra had spent her days tending the land on their farm. When her husbands' sister died the produce was not enough and so she had to join the guard – this, in essence, was almost entirely true and so Lyra found no issue in telling it. Thomas seemed slightly crestfallen to find that she was only there for necessity but overcame his expectations quickly in favor of telling her his own past.

He was the bastard son of some dwarf lord in Erebor. Apparently, his mother and father had had a passionate affair and they were deemed to be married as soon as midwinter had passed. However, his father had been called away on business but was accosted on the road and mortally injured. His mother, having had no news of her betrothed, had enquired at the mountain and this was when she discovered of his death and in addition to this tragedy the funeral had already passed. It was mere weeks after this she found out she was with child and thus raise the bastard child herself. His mother had been lucky enough to be the daughter of a profitable innkeeper and so his mother and him had wanted for very little.

"My uncle is an innkeep too now, took over when my grandfather died." Thomas mumbled as they sat at benches in the food hall and stuffed gloppy meat stew and stale bread into their mouth. "My other uncle moved to the south to study alchemy, but ma says that nothing will come of it and that he shouldn't have gone. My cousin joined the guard last year, but he had to stop when he got a stray arrow to the leg." Thomas stuffed some more bread into his mouth happily. "What about you?"

"I do not have any other family other than my sister and her children," Lyra explained, smiling wryly at Thomas. The fast friendship between herself and the half-dwarf was something she began to treasure, recognizing the kind spirit the boy held.

"Do you know many dwarfs?" Thomas asked, changing the subject.

"Only those at the market that sell their wares, but not personally."

"I know a few, and they've tried to teach me some Khuzdûl, saying it's as rightfully mine as theres. Says that even though I'm only half dwarf I should still know the language." Thomas then tried to recount some of what he learnt which caused the two to laugh together lightly as her new friend butchered the ancient language.

Weapon training was something she actually enjoyed and looked forward to. The archery was obviously her best skill and she could keep up with the best of the recruits. Although she was nowhere near as good as those who had been professionally trained, she was still informed by the archery instructor, Captain Anders, that she had impressive raw skills. When it came to the sword fighting, however, this was another matter. The swords were heavy and she found, with her thin arms, she struggled to keep the weapon lifted for more than a few minutes. At which point her arm began to shake in exhaustion.

Unfortunately, sword combat was the area which Sargent Walker directed and he would constantly criticize her efforts. Lyra picked up the movements of the sword easily enough but knew that were she in a fight, if she did not land a fatal blow within a few strikes, then she'd be as good as dead.

Fighting with a spear was much simpler and easier. Although she could not throw it very successfully, raw strength being the main ingredient, she could maneuver it well due to it being much lighter than a sword and found it easier to keep enemies at bay.

When the two weeks were finally up she realized that not one person had been sent away. The Sargent's speech at the beginning, she realized, had been simply a show and that they were indeed desperate enough for men that they would take anyone willing to put their name down. Lyra would say that she was not the worst, have excelled in endurance and archery, but she was close to it.

"Thank you all for your efforts," Sargent Walker announced to the recruits in a tired and world wary voice. He stood on a platform to the side of the courtyard where they had initially signed up and then trained for the past few weeks. "I am happy to say all of you have passed the training and can now become guardsmen for the town of Dale. This means you must protect and serve the people and should Dale be called to war you will be called upon to fight."

Lyra quickly realized the intent of the training was not to weasel out the weak but to distribute the men into category's according to their strengths. The footmen, the scouts and the archers. Those who had the strength were under Sargent Walker to become footman, those with endurance were under Captain Martin to become scouts and those with any skill in archery were under Captain Anders. Although every solider in the Dale army were city guard primarily and had the same day to day job, the division of units were so that were open warfare to take place then they would have a semblance of organization.

One by one the recruits were called to the front and given the sigil of the Dale Guard and who they would be their commanding officer. Many names were called and there was an even split of people throughout the divisions. Thomas was called before Lyra and, unsurprisingly, would report to Sargent Walker. Thomas flashed her a smile as he made his way to the platform, agreed to protect and serve the people of Dale, and was handed his sigil by his new commander.

"Luke Fraser." Lyra swallowed down rising bile as her name was called, made her way to the front of the crowd and stepped up onto the platform just like the others before her. She felt her heart beat aggressively in her chest and her hand sweat from nervousness. There was no going back after this. She did not think she would nor did she want to but the thought still lingered in the back of the mind. She did not think she fully comprehended the level of her decision to lie her way to become a solider. However, she knew there was no other choice and so steeled herself and made the age old promise that all soldiers made; to protect and serve the people. She thought this was a rather apt promise and was filled with courage as images of her sister, niece and nephew flashed through her mind.

She was not that surprised when Captain Anders handed her the sigil of Dale. Thus she had joined the city guard, would professionally train to become an archer, and probably sealed her fate in either life imprisonment or her execution.

!

That night Lyra returned to her family clad in armor, armed with a sword, a spear and a new bow. Freya threw her arms around her neck and cried for her brave little sister and the salvation she had given the family in her sacrifice.

"Here." Lyra placed a small bag of silver pieces on the table in the kitchen as she struggled to take off her new armor. It was predominantly boiled leather with the odd bits of protective steel on the chest and shoulders along with a balky metal helm which had to be adjusted so it would fit her petit head. The armor was designed for a male and so sat uncomfortably on her hips and shoulders but Lyra knew she'd get used to the extra weight eventually. She lent her weapons against the wall and with her sisters help managed to release herself from the weight.

Freya, heavily pregnant with little over two months until the birth day, waddled to the stove to serve up a bowl of barley stew for Lyra. The money sat on the table forgotten and unimportant; only a sad necessity and counting the coppers would do little to quiet any nerves the sisters held. With Lyra working there was no fear that they would not be able to survive the winter; but it was now the dangerous profession that clenched the hearts of the inhabitants of the small cottage.

"Aunty Lyra," Jacob muttered from his bed, wiping sleep from his eyes and climbing to his feet groggily but with determination to reach his aunt. Lyra smiled down at the boy and scooped him into her arms as he tried to climb onto her lab. "Did you become a soldier then?" He asked, looking Lyra up and down as if to decide if he could see any change.

Lyra cuddled him closer and kissed his forehead lovingly. "I did," she told the boy and, sleepiness forgotten the child began to asked questions in the most curious and unrefined way that only children could do. Lyra lowered her voice and answered the questions as best she could, glancing over his head to his mother who sat happily with an indulgent smile playing on her lips.

It entered Lyra's mind that she would have another niece or nephew in the coming months and, with the large swell of Freya's belly she thought that this child would need all the money she could muster to grow big and strong. Martha made a loud snoring noise from the bed, making the sisters aware of the late hour, and the family moved to join the youngest member to sleep.

Lyra would live in the barrack when working but spend her days off with the family, sending the money back home whenever she was able. As Lyra lay in bed that night, thinking of the hard times the family had faced, the tough weeks of training she had endured and the cold winter nights that would no doubt plague this small families home, she felt the bubbling of hope.

Since the sacking of Esgaroth by the dragon when Lyra was but four years of age, life had been tough for the Fraser sisters (albeit Freya was no longer a Fraser but a March). They had been orphaned young and at ten years old Freya had the weight of the world on her shoulders. After the battle of the Five armies, where the sister had cowered in an abandoned building in the ruins of Dale, they had made their way back to their old house on the waters of the Black Lake and rebuilt what they could.

The orphanage accepted them for a few years, with many children orphaned by the dragon, but when Freya turned fifteen she was expected to care for herself and her sister with whatever meager skills she possessed. At sixteen Freya had fallen in love with her future husband, and after a short courtship had married and the small family had moved to Dale to start afresh.

Lyra thought on all her sister had done for her when she was such a young child. Protecting her and caring for her when Freya herself was only but a child herself. She felt a well of pride that she could return the favor now as she worked hard to keep the family afloat.

Thus the hope bubbled and remained there until the sun rose and Lyra set off for her first official day as a city guard and a soldier of Dale.

!

 **Shorter chapter but now we can get to the good stuff! Please let me know what you think by reviewing the chapter and please accept my apologies for any grammatical errors.**

 **Thanks!**


	4. Erebor

**Chapter Four - Erebor**

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" _ **What are men to rocks and mountains?" ― Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice**_

!

 _4 months later_

"Fraser, hurry on now lad. You're falling behind," shouted Captain Anders standing on a high rock with a toothy grin down at Lyra's lumbering form.

"Relative to my weight; I am carrying a lot more than you," Lyra gasped out with raspy breaths as she put one foot in front of the other, making her way up the mountainous path uneasily.

"You're stronger than you look lad, I know," the Captain commented with a thick, burley laugh. Thomas, who walked beside her and had an equally large bag of supplies on his back, seemed to have no problem with the burden and was quick to remind her of this.

"I'm not having any trouble," he quipped cheekily, smiling through his beard which had grown substantially since there first introduction all those months ago.

Lyra stuck her tongue out at her friend. "Well that hollow head of yours means you have less weight on your shoulders."

Thomas laughed, "better a hollow head than those skinny arms of yours." Lyra just huffed and marched on towards Captain Anders who was leading the small expedition to Erebor. The month of March was creeping upon them quickly, the snow having mostly melted and the smell of spring lingering in the air ready to burst as soon as the temperature rose higher.

They were to assist in the relief of the dwarven city after the harsh winter that had cut the mountain off from Dale and Lake Town. The main road, a long and winding path that gave a gradual incline up to the gates of Erebor, took half a day to traverse on foot and that was where the cart laden with food and supplies found their route. The small unit Lyra was a part of was to deliver much needed medical aid in less than half the time it would take the carts to reach the mountain. This meant 10 men carrying the supplies on their back, up the steeper but more direct route, to aid in the minor outbreak of some degree of flu that had plagued the city all winter. Reports had it that the King under the mountains sister had fallen ill and thus when the snow had melted the best elven medical herbs had been sent for and Captain Anders was tasked with delivering them to Erebor as fast as possible.

He was given the pick of ten men and, for whatever reason Lyra could not fathom, she was amongst those chosen. Thomas was an obvious choice, being well built and strong, but her clearly slim frame was not ideal for the hard labor. It was not her place to question and yet her curiosity eventually got the best of her. Marching forward to the front of the procession that Captain Anders led she fell into step beside him.

"Sir," Lyra began causing the companies leader to glance at her in acknowledgement and a smile. Captain Anders and herself had grown a fairly solid relationship as soldier and commander, and somewhat of a hesitant friendship had sprouted from this. Since Lyra's allocation into the archers of Dale she had excelled under the watchful eye of a skilled archer like the Captain and she believed her commander took great pride in having guided her abilities so skillfully. "May I speak freely?"

"You may," he acknowledged.

"I would not have picked myself for this mission," she admitted hesitantly, weighing her words so as not to sound like she was questioning his judgment. "I would like to ask why I was chosen."

Captain Anders laughed at the question. "I have not chosen you because of your strength but because I believe you will make a good ambassador." The captain glanced back at the other men, all who were built similarly to Thomas albeit slightly taller than the half dwarf. Lyra was by far the weakest and, bar Thomas, shortest amongst the company. Captain Anders looked back at Lyra and frowned seriously. "The dwarfs can be a hard lot, covetous and harsh, and patience is required in dealing with them. I have known you for many months and find you are a person who weighs their words carefully. I would like to see how you fare."

The Captain marched forward, indicating the conversation had finished, and for the remainder of the difficult journey she found herself deep in thought.

She sometimes marveled at the idea no one had figured out she was indeed female. Admittedly, during the winter months they had barely left the safety of Dale and thus there was always a lavatory to use rather than her comrade's preference to urinate off of the city walls when no one was looking. She had not had to live at the barracks like she initially thought she might; those rooms only used for training and selecting new recruits and, when she thought about it, they were far too small to hold the entire garrison of Dale. Thus sleeping and bathing were things she could do in the privacy of her own home.

Her main job consisted of guarding and patrolling the streets of Dale. Sometimes these patrols would move past the city lines when reports of disturbances were heard, but rarely out of sight of the wall and usually left to the more experienced guardsmen. Twice a week the guard's men were required to train at the barracks to hone their skills and maintain fitness. Archers were expected to practice with their bow and arrows mostly, but short range weapons were of course required as well. Like in the initial training Lyra had favored the spear and found it had more of an intimidating effect in addition when questioning shady individuals.

The most she'd had to do in the past few months was break up brawls outside public houses or apprehend merchants who had attempted to smuggled prohibited goods into the city. Lyra found herself working with Thomas more and more, Archers being paired with footmen to allow a balance of skill if absconded, which suited her just fine. They worked well together and they would even sometimes grab a drink after work and talk about nothing and everything. These were usually pubs that did not permit women and Lyra understood why; the men were crude and rude and drank too much and so Lyra found, although she enjoyed the odd drink with her friend, she did not ever stay for another.

Lyra sometimes felt horrid about keeping the secret of her true identity but knew it a necessity even from friends.

Having few friends in Dale also meant that no-one had ever noticed her. The household staff of Lord Hogarth may have recognized her particularly sharp features but they were overworked and tired and so never took any notice of a guard stationed at their post. Lyra had only seen Lord Hogarth and Lady Fiona a handful of times in her patrols, at markets and in the town square, but with her long hair gone and the heavy attire of the guard uniform she doubted they'd have found her out anyway had she been noticed.

Freya had suggested that had someone recognized her then she should exclaim that Lyra and Luke were twins, reunited after years of separation. Freya and her had laughed at this; a rare relaxed jovial moment in a sea of uncertainties and fears.

Lyra thoughts strayed to the newest addition to the family; Murphy March. The little boy was born early December healthy and huge and with lungs loud enough to wake the dead. Freya was beyond her wits ends nursing this needy child and caring for three year-old Martha who didn't understand why she no long had so much of her mother attention. Jacob, however, seemed to stand up to the task of helping his mother and the oldest brother was a god-send for the widowed mother of three. Lyra helped where she could but the long hours guarding the wall took their toll and bed was sometimes her only release from the stress of the day.

The rest of the way to the mountain was traversed in silence but when the company laid their eyes upon the gates of Erebor a collective gasp of awe could be heard from those that had not seen the city before, including Lyra.

"Masterful, isn't it?" remarked Captain Anders, not pausing to admire the view but strolled purposely towards the dwarven sentry stationed at a check post a way from the entrance.

The dwarf, about a head shorter than herself at about five foot, asked what their business was and the Captain did not hesitate in explaining their mission. Only half listening to the Captain explaining their presence, Lyra marveled at the entrance to the city. Set into the lonely mountain were five columns as wide as five men spaced out at equal interval, stretching up and meeting in a pointed curve with a huge, angular keystone. Above this the pattern with the columns continued, snaking upwards in a geometric marvel. In the center there was a large oaken door reinforced with steel, about the height for 4 men, engraved with elaborate carvings and a language that Lyra didn't recognize. On the other levels there were many baloneys open to the air and columns positioned to let in lots of light to many different floors. Looking high above the entrance Lyra notices the shimmer of light off reflective openings in the mountain which, with surprise, she realized must be glass windows. In addition to this, each piece of stone seemed to have elaborate patterns which must have taken a single dwarf weeks to create to perfection.

She was brought out of her musings as the company began to move forward and the doors were opened into the bustling city of dwarfs.

Erebor was vast. There were many more words that might have better described the city; elegant, intimidating, grand, majestic. The word that sat firmly in the mind of Lyra was vast. Like the outside of the of the mountain the inside was all columns of giant proportions that seemed to go on as far as the eye could see, deep into the mountain. It seemed to be like large streets set out at first in the entrance hall then spreading out through like veins into the mountain, with many dwarfs' comings and going through these systems.

Lyra noticed that a particularly short dwarf was leading the company at an increased pace.

"Come along," the guide instructed the group of soldiers, abruptly turning a corner without looking back, expecting them to have followed. Lyra was jerked on the arm by Thomas to hurry along as she got distracted by the patterns on the wall. They were led through many narrow corridors with high ceilings, and a few side tunnels where half of the company had to duck down slightly, and up to a floor that smelt of burning herbs and musk. They approach an archway and behind it was a large room, almost a hall, filled with dim candle light and beds. Moaning could be heard from within the room from the sick and dying inside. Lyra felt her stomach turn in sympathy for the inflicted.

The guide left the company for a moment and entered the room to retrieve a dwarf who had been seeing to some bandages (blisters produced by the illness Lyra would learn). An elderly dwarf with white hair and a long beard with an intricately braided beard that reached to his knees came from the room and smiled up at them in relief.

"Oin, son of Groin, at your service," bowed the dwarf hastily, and held some type of trumpet up to his ear.

Our Captain steeped forward with equal respect. "Captain Anders, well met Oin, son of Groin."

"If you would follow me the supplies you bring are much needed, this River Flu has been worse than I've seen it in years." Oin walked back into the ward and the team of ten soldiers and their captain followed. They were each instructed to take their bag to separate parts of the room depending on what they held and who was most in need. Lyra saw both Oin, the Captain and the guide who had lead them through the hall talking quietly to each other and when her commanding officer looked up he gestured to her to approach. Lyra hitched the heavy bag up onto her shoulders and did as she was bid.

"Luke, follow Gren son of Greg, with the supplies you have. There is someone else who needs this assistance." Captain Anders gave Lyra a significant look and the young guard felt all she could do was nod and follow the short dwarf.

They travelled back the way they had come but turned off higher into the mountain. The intricacies of the walls became more elaborate and beautiful, with gold veins running through the imagines and beautiful marble floors so clean your reflection could be seen upon them. Gren moved quickly, seemingly not noticing the grandeur they had stumbled into.

"Master Luke is it?" Gren asked in a squeak, glancing over his shoulder and not waiting for an answer before he continued. "We have entered the Royal apartments where we will be going to be in the presence of royalty. Do no speak unless spoken to, keep to the back of the room and I will inform you when you can leave. Refer to them as 'your majesty' or 'sire'. Not sir, or by name." Gren let out another squeak, counting his fingers as if he was unsure if he'd covered everything. Lyra, being used to being in the presence of lords and ladies, having served princess Sigrid many times and evening having met the king of dale a handful, was not flustered at the idea of being in such company. However, she was surprised that she'd been instructed to come here and wondered what the purpose of her presence was and why captain Anders hadn't gone himself.

They stopped at another oaken door, this one much smaller, and when Gren knocked it opened into a beautifully decorated sitting room with three dwarfs standing in the center deep in conversation. The room was made up of deeps reds and golds, with cloths handing from the ceiling and rich carpets circling the stone floor. The fire to the side was blazing strongly and Lyra noticed a large window high above the ground, covered in a thin burgundy curtain, which was illuminating the room with fragments of daylight.

"Your majesty," the guide announced as he bowed at the hip and looked to the floor. Lyra copied his movements, being careful not to accidently curtsey, and when she rose again she found herself met with three intense, suspicious stares. Lyra recognized the king and the youngest prince from her last service with the Hogarth family, but the third, an older dwarf with white hair and kindly eyes, she did not recognize. She did not know if she should look down and away as she was told to as a maid, or to stare strongly with her back straight as males were want to do.

"You are here with the medical relief?" Prince Kili asked, stress creeping into his voice. King Thorin did not comment but stared at her with hard eyes, a frown upon his brow and a thick, uninviting aura which would allow no one in his presence for long.

"Yes," Lyra answered with a slight nod, "your majesty," she added as an after thought. At Gren's instance she shrugged the bag off her shoulders and dug around to find the ingredient of kingsfoil which was snatched out of her hand immediately by the short dwarf who got to work in preparing some type of salve. All the while, the two royals and the white haired dwarf eyed her with deep, unfounded mistrust.

She noticed there was a table to the side, laid out with all sorts of glass containers and herb crushing contraptions which Gren worked over with deep concentration. Lyra stood next to the door, the pack at her feet, with her hands behind her back in a position of 'at ease'. Noticing more of the room she saw there was an open door behind to the back with the corners of a bed peaking out from the behind the wall. She thought that this must be where the sick patient who was in direr need of the medicine was. After a while Gren finish the salve and, without indication from the Royals, went through to the sick room.

The three dwarfs followed him, clearly more concerned for the patient than suspicious of her, and Lyra found herself alone in the grandly decorated room.

Gasps of pain could be heard from inside the room followed by distressed noises from the witnessing party. Finding her curiosity mounting within her she took a few steps forward to see what was happening; not having been told to remain where she was and seeing no reason not to follow the dwarfs.

"It's not working," Gren's voice said, sounding frustrated. "This should have immediate relief for poison such as this. His heart rate is still so low and he tremors uncontrollably."

"It's worked in the past for this foul orc poison," Kili's voice distressed. "Maybe you didn't do it right!"

"He did fine lad, but maybe orc poison is not the culprit," the white hair dwarf explained to Prince Kili gently.

"Who else would dare poison a prince of Erebor?" Thorin spoke, his voice low but laced with steel.

Lyra, standing at the door, saw the four dwarfs huddled over the bed of Prince Fili, who lay shivering and unconscious. Upon his body spread a red, blotchy rash and his breath came in heavy, difficult gasps. Lyra, having seen her own nephew inflicted with the same ailment last summer, believed she knew instantly what was wrong.

The price for the medicine they had needed had been very high, but she was sure money wouldn't be an issue for the king of Erebor. Before she could decide whether she should speak, knowing that death could result from this poison, she was spotted by the dwarf she didn't recognize.

"Child, leave this place this is none of your concern," snapped the white haired dwarf, walking towards her in a shooing motion.

Lyra hesitated, fearing to speak knowing that these were royalty and that such high lords didn't take kindly to opinions spoken freely, but knowing that the consequence could be worse if she didn't.

"If you please, I think I know what ails the prince," Lyra spoke respectably, remaining in her position by the door despite the dwarf insisting she should leave.

"Balin, let him speak," the king said firmly but not unkindly, and the older dwarf stepped back grumpily. The king beckoned her to say her piece, but she was not invited to step further into the room. Lyra was suddenly conscious of all eyes on her.

"My nephew, last summer, had the same illness due to ingesting the Lily of the Valley leaves, having mistaken them for wood garlic," she explained softly, not wanting to disturb the sleeping prince.

"Lily of the valley? I have not heard of this," Gren frowned, looking to Lyra doubtfully.

"You may have it by a different name." Lyra looked at the prince, seeing how he was reaching for something in front of him that was not there and she recalled how Jacob had seen visions and hallucinations before he was cured.

"And pray tell, how did your nephew overcome the poison?" Thorin asked impatiently, clearly deeply concerned for his own nephew and heir.

Lyra hesitated slightly, knowing they would not like the answer. "A concoction of charcoal to soak up that which has been ingested, though that may be too late, and… a decoction of belladonna." There was silence in the room.

"This is poison in itself, is it not?" Kili questioned, confused but reluctant to dismiss an idea that may potentially save his brother. Thorin did not comment, but continued to look at Lyra with unbending intensity.

Gren, however, began to nod. "It would counteract the slow beat of his heart to be sure. Enough time, maybe, for the prince's metabolism to stabilize itself…" Gren drifted off and marched from the room towards Lyra's pack that still sat on the floor by the door. He buried around within it before coming up out with Belladonna in it's raw form.

"This is commonly used then?" Kili question, stepping up next to Lyra and staring at Gren in concern.

"Oh aye, it can be," Gren spoke and began to work at the table, lighting an oil candle that she hadn't noticed before, and began to extract the essence and brew a strong concoction. Lyra began to wonder if she should leave when Thorin spoke from behind her in a deep, commanding voice.

"You, soldier, stay until the potion is given." The implications of the Kings words made Lyra squirm and she preyed to the gods that the young prince would survive; both for his sake and hers.

An hour passed, judging by the disappearing light from the window, until the concoction was near ready. Lyra at one point had questioned Gren on the amount of Belladonna he had put in the recipe. "Dwarfs are a tough race lad, we'd need more than your young nephew did I'm sure."

Lyra stood by the door, her knee locked and her stare intense on the stone bellow her feet. The dwarf, she learned was named Balin, had left after a small while and only Kili and the King remained. The young prince sat at the bedside of his brother, holding his hand tight within his own. Thorin stood by the fire and stared deeply into the burning embers.

"It is a raw mix but sufficient," Gren announced when he was done, and they all moved to Fili's bedside to administer the hopeful cure. Kili held down his brother's arms as he began to flail about against an imaginary beast and Lyra was instructed to hold down his feet. With Fili held still the potion was given.

Three moments passed where Fili continued to struggle about and Lyra began to fear for herself. Then, as if taken over by a spell, Fili suddenly grew still. His breathing became calm and he fell into a dreamless sleep rather than the restless slumber he'd been stuck within before.

In a rare moment of unchecked emotion Lyra smiled brightly, knowing that it was her help that had allowed hope for the prince's condition. From the other side of the room Lyra felt Thorin staring at her intently to which he inclined his head. Lyra composed herself and straightened, bowed respectfully, and took her leave.

!

 **Please let me know what you though of Lyra's first impression of Erebor, of Thorin's interaction and the short time skip! I love hearing your opinions. Thank you so much to everyone who had read and reviewed so far it means so much to me and I appreciate you taking the time you give feed back!**

 **So, until next week…**


	5. Olive Branch

**Chapter Five – Olive Branch**

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" _ **We often miss opportunity because it's dressed in overalls and looks like work." ― Thomas A. Edison**_

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Hardly a week later as Lyra was finishing her shift, Captain Anders called from the first floor of the barracks, for her to talk. Lyra paused, wondering if she had done something wrong, and made her way up the stairs and toward the captain's quarters.

Captain Anders laughed when he saw the look on her face as Lyra entered the sitting room of the officers sleeping quarters. In the small room there was a table in the middle filled with papers and inventory books with a chair at either side. The room itself boasted of a single window, plain wooden floors and stone walls. "Don't look so scared lad," the Captain laughed, taking a seat and gesturing for Lyra to do the same. "You did good last week you know?"

Lyra, not one to talk up her own success or draw attention to herself, had told no one but the Captain of her effort when he had asked for her report. But somehow the story had made its way through the ranks and she was now being somewhat noticed. She did not think this a good thing and made extra effort to keep her head down and get on with her job. Winter was almost over and she would soon be able to leave the army with no one the wiser to her lies and deception.

"You have been offered a new position," the Captain begun, pausing to find a notice on his desk and handing it to her. The notice was two feet long and, from what Lyra could make out, was a letter addressed to the Captain. She had been taught her letters at the orphanage but did not find need to use the skill very often, and so struggled to read what was before her.

"It is a request from the King of dale," Captain Anders explained, leaning back in his chair and looking very grave. "Apparently, what you inadvertently walked into last week was the result of an assassination attempt." Lyra nodded, having expected that this was the case.

"Due to the nature of the poison the suspicions have moved from orcs to human assassins." Captian Anders looked up to Lyra, trying to stress the significance of this. "The relationship between Dale and Erebor is somewhat strained and so as a result the King of Dale has offered them an olive branch in offering them 20 men from the garrison to help with the security of Erebor."

Lyra nodded once again, trying to puzzle out why the workings of these great royals were anything to do with her. Captain Anders scrutinized her, frowning.

"You have been asked for by name," He said seriously. Lyra was shocked and at a loss for word. "Unfortunately, this is more of an order than a request. I am sad to see you go but I believe this to be the start of a very good career." The Captain stood, moved around his desk and patted Lyra on the shoulder. "Don't look so glum lad. You'll get twice the pay and will get to live inside a mountain. Maybe a dwarven lass might take your fancy. Who knows!" He gave a bark of laugh, his mood improved at the prospect of women, and placed a large bag of coined on Lyra legs. "Here's your forward, plus sum for the new position."

The Captain left Lyra to muse over what she had been told. She picked up the coins and weighted them in her hands, staring intensely at what it might mean to have be given a position in the mountain. Like the Captain said, it was an order not a request, and so she'd have to fulfill this mission before she was able to leave the Dale guard. This did not sit will with Lyra as it meant more certainty that she would get caught sooner rather than later.

On the way home Lyra went through the closing down market and thought to buy some treats for her family. They had never been as well off as they were now with Lyra's new position; not even when Freya's husband had been alive. She took her pick of bread and cheese and even bought a cut of lamb to make a thick stew using the lavender and rosemary from Freya's garden. For the children she brought them large dates, sweeter than fruit and a real rarity in their home. She picked at a date on her way home, enjoying the sweetness and sticky texture and thought that maybe things wouldn't be all that bad.

!

That night the Fraser and the March family ate very well in celebration.

Freya sat with a new babe upon her breast, the birth having been relatively easy compared to her first, and basked in the warmth of the fire. Spring was almost upon them but the nights were still cold and would grip you to your very bone. Freya grew more and more worried each day however as she began to realize how sickly her child was. Three times that winter had she thought she'd lose the little one and money that had been slaved away by the sister had to be used to acquire more herbs and medicine to stave off any illness. They were doing well, but the continued worry for her three children took up her every breath.

When Lyra had said she'd been asked to take a position in the mountain, trepidation at the prospect was in the forefront of her mind. However, when she thought on it a little longer she realized that they were not out of the woods yet and that the extra savings her sister could make from this may mean enough for a dowry and a new marriage in the family. This would save them altogether and not just allow for hand to mouth living.

"I think we must," Freya had told her that evening. Martha sat on Lyra legs happily as her aunt played with her hair, putting it into elaborate braids she had learnt while in the service of lady Fiona much to the enjoyment of the child.

"I don't think we have a choice," Lyra replied, an accepting sadness in her eyes that spoke of world weariness beyond her years.

Freya worried for her sister sometimes. She had a kind heart but having grown up in a world that had little love meant there was a hardness about Lyra that Freya wished she could have protected her from. Lyra hardly remembered the time before the dragon, when both their parents had been alive and happy. Their father had been a fisherman and they lived fairly and happily in their profession. Although, the master had been a crawl and greedy man, their little family had got by.

When the dragon came and destroyed the town, their parents had died in the blaze, and they had been evacuated to Dale to wait out the war of men, dwarfs, orcs and elves. After that the orphanage had been home. Their fingers would blister from the hard work they had to do to earn their keep, but there was food, shelter and surety that one day would lead to the next. Looking back and having a child now the same age as Lyra was then would make her stomach turn and want to hold her children close.

The orphanage kicked the girls out when Freya was of an age to marry, and so she did exactly that to create a life for herself and her little sister. The days after the orphanage were uncertain and difficult, much like they had been that summer, but Freya knew what she had to do. When Freya had met and fallen in love with her Husband everything had fallen into place and the world was whole again. They had a family, they had a new life in Dale, and the two sisters could live with comfort and happiness. That had changed of course when he had passed, but this time it seemed it was Lyra's turn to take on the mantle of responsibility.

Freya's task had been hard all those year ago, but she felt her bravery could not equal that of her younger sisters. Freya cut her sisters hair shorter once again, as she had done many times that winter, and helped her don her gear. Lyra looked something else with her sword at her hip, spear in her hand and bow on her back. Freya pulled their mothers ring from her finger, the one that her husband had used to marry her, and placed it in her sister's hand. They had packed a bag of clothes Freya had sowed from her husband's old things and thick cloths to make sure her monthly bleeding did not get noticed.

When Lyra left the next morning, kitted up to the bone, she hugged Jacob and Martha tight and placed a gentle kiss upon her the babe, named Murphy for her husband. Freya also hugged her sister tight.

"I love you sister," Freya told Lyra, hugging her again.

"I love you too," Lyra told Freya, who left that morning with tear in her eyes and braved the world.

!

Erebor; her new home for the foreseeable future. It was a strange thought; one that both excited and terrified her. Lyra had enjoyed being a guard, much more than she'd let on to her sister, but she knew that this could all come crashing down upon her at any second and so she reframed from feeling happiness, lest bitterness take route when it didn't work out.

That day she made the journey to Erebor alone, knowing she was expected at the gate before sunset, and thought about how she may keep her secret now she had to live in a new place. She wondered if she'd share a room, if it was a long hall where all 20 men would sleep, whether they bathed in a large lake under the mountain, how they would cook and buy their food. These musings took her all the way to the top and when she presented herself at the giant, oak door they led her to her new quarters in an instant.

She tried to memorize the way but got lost after the tenth turning and firth flight of stairs. Eventually, she was taken to some kind of mess hall where she noticed a number of other men sitting on a long bench. Her guide left her without a word and so she took a seat next to someone she vaguely recognized and they gave a nod of greeting to each other.

"Luke, over here!" she heard a voice from up the table. Thomas, she learnt with a surprise and a wave, was amongst the men as well as most of the regiment that had taken the medical aid to Erebor a week past. The hall they were seated in had a number of other benches, where dwarfs dressed in armor were eating their super in peace. Some looked over at them with curiosity, others with animosity, but most just ignored their presence altogether. She guessed that this was the mess hall for soldiers.

Once all twenty of the promised soldiers had arrived a taller dwarf came into the room and barked out for us to be quiet. There was a clunk and a step as the dwarf walked along the length of the bench, gruff unhappiness emitting from his very being. The dwarf, who Lyra would later learn was called Dwalin and the brother of Balin (who she'd met in Prince Fili's chamber last week). He was bald on his head and had elaborate tattoos along his arms which, Lyra guessed most likely covered the rest of his body. When he turned around to face the crowd Lyra saw that he was deeply disfigured on one side of his face and that the sound of him walking was because he was one leg short.

"Right, you lot," announced Dwalin, clearly having command and ferocity despite his disability. "You're here because someone tired to kill one of the royal princes." Mutters went through the Dale guardsmen, most of them clearly not having been told why they were being sent here. "You're to join our watches and our guard posts until we deem the threat passed or more dwarfs can be summoned from the blue hills to take your place." Dwalin grumbled to himself and Lyra got the impression he was not happy about the fact Erebor didn't have enough soldiers themselves and had to ask Dale for assistance.

Dwalin beckoned to the back of the door and a slim, young looking dwarf came forward and began to hand out parchments with the second name of the soldiers present.

"Fraser," the young dwarf called, and Lyra put her hand in the air to receive the scroll.

"Thank you Ori," Dwalin told the young dwarf when he had finished before turning back to the regiment. "In your scroll you'll have information about your station. I am Dwalin your commanding officer. Get on with your job or you'll have to deal with me." With those words he hobbled from the room with purpose and anger. Ori smiled at everyone and beckoned for them to follow him to where they were lead to a long corridor which would evidently be their sleeping quarters.

Lyra was waiting with the other men for their turn to pass into the corridor to find their rooms when Thomas came up to her in excitement. "We're each got our own room, in this corridor, marked with a number…" Thomas looked at the parchment he had been given, with the information of who he would serve, his timetable and, evidently, his room number. "I'm number fifteen, where are you?" he asked curiously. Lyra unrolled her scroll and found it marked with twenty. "Looks like you're in the last room."

She found her quaters, splitting off from Thomas as he excitedly went to explore his, and was pleasantly surprised. The small sleeping room where she may leave her belongings, do her business, wash and take rest was actually very large. Lyra was amazed to find that all the rooms had running water where she may bath in privacy. The room was simple, with no window being a bit into the mountain but relatively spacious. The length of 4 men along and 3 men across, with a large bed all to herself, a soft rug in the center of the floor and a fireplace against the wall filling the room with light and warmth. The walls were bare stone with a large cloth on the wall opposite the fireplace, and like the rest of the room the color of forest green. It was cozy and homely as she could ever had expected.

"Wow Luke, your rooms so much nicer than mine!" complained the half-dwarf from the door, strolling into the room uninvited and flopping down onto the bed. Lyra dropped her bag and moved to the single seat that sat by the fire. Thomas move towards her and sat down on the carpeted floor, taking off his boots and stretching his legs to warm them by the fire.

"Where are you stationed?" he asked, pulling the scroll out again and scrutinizing it. "I'm by the main gate half the time and and patrolling the… west corridor? Oh I think that's where the Royals live!"

Lyra read her parchment with difficulty but eventually deciphered the meaning and found herself to be very confused. "I only have one post and…" Lyra paused, confused. "It says I am to guard someone."

"Really?" Thomas, asked getting to his knees and leaning over her arm to see at the parchment. Such proximity to men would have once upon a time made her blush, but she was comrades and friends with many of those she worked with and propriety had a completely different meaning when you are pretending to be a man. Thomas and her mused over the possibilities but eventually decided that tomorrow would reveal all.

After grabbing something to eat from the mess hall Lyra retired to her room and, deservedly, slept.

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 **Who could it be she's guarding?! Thanks for all the support so far. Until next week!**


	6. Nobility

**Chapter Six – Nobility**

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" _If you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals." ― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_

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Lyra woke to pitch black. The fire had burned down long ago and the all encompassing darkness Lyra was faced with was like nothing she had experienced before. She blinked a few times to check she had actually opened her eyes and tried to rouse herself from her slumber. A bell could be heard ringing in the corridor to indicate the change in shift.

Lyra climbed off the bed slowly, hands out in front of her face to make sure she didn't crash into anything, and found a candle to light. With the illumination she began to dress herself. Being alone and able to lock the door she'd stripped down to all but a shirt, allowing herself the freedom of removing the wrappings from her breasts. With her eyes adjusting to the light Lyra moved to the bowl and large shaving mirror that sat upon a side table. Studying her form, she frowned at her womanly curves, turning left and right to observe her different sides. She was quietly thankful for the formless, large nature of the Dale guard uniform that hid all the curves from sight.

Lyra set to binding her breast so that they were uncomfortably flat against her chest. She washed her face and short, brown hair in the basin; the one thing she was thankful for in pretending to be a man was keeping her hair so short and how much easier it was than managing her curls. Once she'd washed, she donned her uniform and weapons. Lyra glanced at her bow leaning against the wall but knew that there was little point in bringing it with her and instead opted for a sword at her hip and her spear.

With little delay Lyra made it to the mess hall, grabbed some sweetbread to eat before her shift, and sat beside Thomas who looked very unhappy at having been woken so early. Her friend consumed his food in one bite and ran off to the gates of Erebor to report to his post. Before she could take much of a bite of her own food someone sat down opposite her. A dwarf with a friendly but hard face sat with his hands folded in front of himself and a bright smile. He was well kept with a chocolate brown bread with streaks of grey and laughter lines at the sides of his eyes. Lyra liked this dwarf immediately.

"Moe, son of Meri, at your service," introduced the dwarf with a rich accented voice, reaching forward and offering his hand. Lyra, now accustomed to such things, took it without hesitance and gave her name in turn.

"Luke Fraser, at yours." The dwarf nodded, having expected this answer. Before Lyra could ask after the business of this brawly dwarf she was beckoned to stand and follow him from the hall. Lyra, not knowing when she may have another chance to eat, quickly shoved the entire sweetbread into her mouth and chase after Moe. This action would have been considered unladylike were she a female, Lyra throught, chewing on the bread being careful not to choke.

"We'll be working shifts together," clarified Moe as they walked. "Never worked with a human before." He looked to the side in a calculating expression.

"I've never worked with a dwarf before," Lyra counteract, hesitant whether this was the correct answer.

Moe just laughed and continued walking through the halls, clearing understanding exactly where they were and needed to go. Lyra thought she recognized the odd turning but would lose it again after the next.

"There's the day and the night shifts," Moe explained. "We do the day shifts, everyday. We get every Friday off and every other Saturday. The kings guard takes over when we're off. But we're the main point; gotta know the routine, the route and everyday life. I've guarded the lad for many years, see. Used to be there were just night posts outside the rooms and two guards when they left the mountain, but since the assassination attempt they've upped it to all hours of the day inside and outside the mountain. Absolutely mad if you ask me, but necessary. The lad wasn't half pleased, but we've our orders." Moe continued to talk, but Lyra seemed to just get more and more confused.

"Excuse me Moe," she interrupted, and the dwarf paused in his tirade and looked up at her expectantly. Lyra briefly noticed that the dwarf was only four and a half foot, but she was quickly getting used to the fact she was so much taller and she imagined she'd stop noticing all together quickly. "But who exactly is it we're guarding?"

Moe let out a booming laugh. "Why, Prince Kili of course!" Moe continued to talk in a jovial manner as he talked on about the job and instructed Lyra on; how far you should walk behind the prince when he went about his business, when you should follow him in and when you should wait at the door, only to speak when spoken to, when you should check before he walks and how you must always know, at every moment you are on duty, where the prince is. At the exasperation in Moe's toned Lyra guessed that this was easier said than done.

Lyra was only half paying attention to Moe, thinking at the implications of having to guard the prince and having been chosen for this honor. Captain Anders had said that this was a huge career move, and her having been asked by name to attend the mission meant that she probably should have expected something as such. But as it was she was taken by surprise and her future suddenly didn't seem so clean cut. The familiar fear that had been her friend in the first month as a Guard of Dale fell into her gut once again and she worried that about inevitability of her getting caught.

Lyra knew very little about the dwarf prince. She'd of course met him, initially at Lord Hogarth's party all those month ago and then again hardly a week past, but she had not been able to gauge his character. She'd heard the cruel yet true observations the princes had made about Lyra's previous employer and worried for a moment that Prince Kili might be unkind. But then she recalled how attentive and worried he'd been towards his sick brother and she knew not what to expect.

They stopped outside a door, almost exactly the same as the one she'd been led to when she'd delivered the medical aid and saved the crown prince. There were two guards already stationed outside what Lyra assumed was Prince Kili's quarters.

"These are the brothers El and Fel," Moe introduced the two guards with a happy greeting. "This here's Luke Fraser."

They looked at Lyra curiously, but nodded in greeting to both herself and Moe and left to sleep for the day.

Moe and herself took up positions at either side of the oaken door. Spears in hand to block anyone that would try and pass the threshold without consent. Lyra had done this exact job many times for different reasons while in Dale, whether for an event or simply guarding the town hall where the King sat. It was simple enough and she was in her comfort zone in dealing with nobles.

"Prince Kili needs to be in the thrown room at midday," Moe whispered to her from across the door. "An hour before we are to knock and enter and wake him."

"Does he not have a manservant for that?" Lyra asked, frowning at the idea of disturbing the prince.

"As his personal guard, we have many jobs," Moe said with mirth. "Keeping his schedule is one of them."

Moe knocked at the appropriate time and they heard a grunt from within the walls indicating that the prince was awake. When he emerged he looked rather the worse for wear but was ready to leave and dressed appropriately for court. As Kili walked out of the room he nodded to them both and began to walk when he suddenly froze, turned, and looked at Lyra with wide eyes.

Lyra panicked for a moment, thinking that maybe the Prince recognized her from being a maidservant and spilling liquid over the Lady Fiona. Her fear was not warranted however as the prince burst into a huge smile and held out his hand enthusiastically. Lyra took the offered hand and was pulled forward as the prince lifted his other hand and grasped his elbow.

"You are Luke Fraser, are you not? Well, I never got to thank you," Kili told Lyra with strong emotion. "You saved my brothers life; I'm in your debt."

Lyra felt her ears turn pink and spluttered out a polite, "not at all, your majesty." She saw Moe's eyes grow wide in surprise. Kili smiled at having caused his guard to become so disconcerted and gave a joyous laugh as he let go of Lyra's arm.

"Well, as soon as I found out that we'd be hosting soldiers from Dale I had to make sure you were amongst those chosen," Kili told Lyra, turning around and beginning to walk up the corridor at a quick pace, but turning around at intervals and looking over his shoulder to talk to her. "I said as much to Thorin, who agreed of course. You've proven yourself already and, if you ask me, I think he liked you a little bit." Kili gave a little spin to face the two guards. "And I knew that Moe could use some help, what with me running circles around him in his old age." The twinkle in the Princes eye told of light jest of his words.

"It'd take an army to keep you in check, lad," Moe spoke with familiarity and a fond smile.

Kili gave a bark of a laugh as he turned and Lyra noticed suddenly how young the prince was. Although, knowing the age of dwarfs to be extended three times that of men, she guessed his youth by the untouched nature of his countenance. She knew the prince had seen battle, and she knew the tale well of the Company of the King who travelled across middle earth to take back their home; barely a child in Esgaroth hadn't heard it. But experience didn't mean wisdom and youth was full of arrogance. Lyra did not count herself from that; her current position of pretending to be a man was as arrogant as possible, so maybe it was a kindrid spirit she found in Kili.

They reached the entrance to the thrown room and Lyra followed Moe's lead and continued to shadow the young prince. The prince then continued on ahead to where the king was seated, Lyra being motioned by Moe to follow him to the side of the door where they were to wait until the Prince was done at court.

So this was court, thought Lyra. The throne room was a marvel to behold. The floor made of polished marble, with steps going up at least two floors to a dais where the king was seated on an intricately carved stone throne. There were no walls but great carvings of dwarven kings of old which stood high about them looking on at the proceedings bellow. From the throne there were several paths reaching to higher baloneys and a large, stalactite structure that stretched down from the ceiling to touch the throne as if to give it the blessing of the mountain. Atop the throne sat a bright, glowing gem which Lyra guessed could be nothing other than the infamous arkenstone.

The king sat in his seat and besides him stood his blond nephew Prince Fili, having recovered remarkably quickly from the poison, and the adviser Balin who had been at Fili's bedside along with his kin. As Kili moved to join his uncle, Lyra took notice of the noble men and women that were gathered in the throne room. The dwarrowdams scattered around where dressed in elaborate dresses of lace and gems, with beards woven into intricate, feminine patterns. Female dwarfs were a rare sight around the rest of middle earth, so she'd heard, but near dwarf kingdoms they were relatively common sight in the surrounding towns. They did not leave their homes without an escort or male dwarf, but from what Lyra grasped of the females they were a hardy lot that took no trouble from anyone let alone from their male counterparts. The only reason for the extra care the dwarfs seemed to take was due to the sparsity of the females relative to males. She imagined that these darrowdams were there to catch the eye of a rich and powerful darrow and if they happened to be the line of Durin all the better.

To Lyra's surprise there were also humans amongst the crowd. Mostly females who had been married into dwarven families to secure land for Erebor to farm on. There were also a few men, people she noticed as lords from Dale as well as young boys who had been sent a squire at Erebor from the Dale nobility.

Lyra stood to attention and on Moe's instruction kept her eyes peeled for any indication of threat throughout the room. An immeasurable amount of time passed, with Kili seated next to his uncle looking bored and hearing the applications presented to the king from those of all stations. Eventually, he stood from the chair and began to mingle amongst the crowd, mainly with the females present and one particularly shy looking dwarrowdam. She noticed his charming smile and particular interest in the pretty girl and had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes at his behavior.

At one point throughout the day Lyra noticed a group of smart looking male dwarfs standing in the corner eyeing her surreptitiously but with clear dislike and even disgust. Lyra ignored their stares in favor of doing her job, but the back of her head kept tingling as she felt eyes upon the strange human guard.

When court was called from session the King stood from his throne and walked down from the dias with purpose towards the door. Fili followed after as his heir and Kili after that as second in line for the throne. Lyra followed Moe and, just like Thorin and Fili's guard, they flanked either side of the royalty. Lyra felt as if she were stumbling through the step of what she should and should not be doing, but Moe gave her an encouraging look as they left the hall and stood behind Kili waiting to follow his lead.

Kili stood around for a while, talking once again with the shy girl who had capture his attention in the hall. Eventually, and much to the shock of Lyra, they began to head off down a corridor just the two of them. The girl became less and less shy and the prince became more energetic and began to touch her arm gently. The couple moved to the higher level of Erebor, giggling all the way, and found a private balcony where they watched the sun under a very romantic setting.

Lyra and Moe stood with their back to them, watching the entrance and trying to give the prince some semblance of privacy, although she didn't think Kili really minded that much. Eventually, the young darrowdam started to run away, giggling merrily, and looking rather disheveled after her ordeal with the prince. Kili came up from behind to stand between his two guards and, much to Lyra's surprise, wrapped his arms around their necks pulling them close to his face as he stared off after the lady.

Lyra notices a kind of dreamy look in the princes eyes as he looked after the girl.

"It's going to be a good night," he said, letting go of the guards and following after the girl.

Lyra and Moe followed a love stricken Kili to his apartment. Moe entered the room before the prince, scoping it out for any hidden dangers, before deeming it fit for the prince and leaving him to his own devices.

Lyra and Moe were relieved from their position not long after this and they set out together for the mess hall. Lyra had to admit she was shocked by the prince's behavior. Being a soldier and being privy to many of the conversations between men she was not unused to that which drives many of the opposite sex. She did not have some illusion that princes were any different, but she assumed that they had to to live by a higher code of conduct. Lyra began to reassess what she thought of certain things so to get her head around what guarding prince Kili may entail.

"Don't judge the lad," Moe told her, noticing her contemplative expression. "He has young fire in his blood, he'll grow out of it. And every one of those ladies goes to his chamber happily and of their own volition." Moe quipped with amusement.

"To his chamber?" Lyra asked with shock, believing the level of inappropriateness was merely a kiss in the corner.

"Oh aye, wait until tomorrow morning. There will be that young maid in his bed happy as anything and giggling all the way back to her room and no one is ever the wiser. The lad does no harm, and anyway it's not our place to question the doings of nobles." Moe spoke with a lightness which came with many years of guarding nobles and dealing with the whims of powerful dwarfs. Lyra nodded, understanding his meaning. She had been in the employ of Lady Fiona who, although did not do anything as naughty, was still spiteful and wicked and Lyra had witnessed her cause much grief through her lies and gossip. What Kili did was immoral but Moe was right, the girl committed themselves into Kili's hansom hands of their own free will, and no harm was done.

"But what if the girls become…" Lyra started, her ears going red and tongue heavy at the idea.

Moe laughed at her awkwardness. "Pregnant?" he asked with amusement. "The way of dwarfs are different from the ways of men. Pregnancy is not so common, with little over half the dwarf ever having wee barns at all. If one of those girls were to be with child, then Kili would marry them out of honor and because she blessed him with a child. If not, then no one need know and if they did then they are not bound to one another. Dwarfs live long lives; they may love only once but that does not mean they are celibate until that moment."

Moe led Lyra to the mess hall, saying he'd come by the following day to show her the way until she learnt it herself. Moe himself had a family and child to return to so he wished her a good sleep and to see her on the morrow.

Lyra grabbed a large meal, having eaten nothing but the measly breakfast that morning, and found Thomas seated amongst the other Dale guards.

"Good day?" Lyra asked, taking a bite of food eagerly. Thomas nodded eagerly and began to talk about all the people he'd meet and seen that day being stationed at the gate. When Lyra told her friend that she was to guard Prince Kili Thomas nearly chocked on his food and demanded every detail, which Lyra told briefly not wanting to betray the prince's privacy.

"Have you noticed all the glaring?" a voice up the table asked; distracting the pair who were taking animatedly about their days.

"Yes, but only a few," said another voice. "Someone said something to me, didn't quiet hear what it was but I think it was insulting, and my on duty party defended me in their language." The men began to mutter some more about the divided opinions. Lyra had to admit, she'd seen some dubious glances in her direction and even one dwarf outwardly sneering at her presence. She wondered how they would react if they knew she was a girl.

"You must get on better, with your heritage?" Lyra questioned Thomas, who looked up from his meal with surprise.

Thomas' face darkened. "Not so," he said bitterly. "Half-dwarfs are not as common here as they are in Dale. And besides that, half-dwarfs are the symbol of a time of change, that not everyone likes."

"What change? Erebor is extremely prosperous; surely this is good change? In Dale, I've never seen anyone look twice at a half-dwarf, and there are so many around." Lyra could not understand. She knew she was being naïve, but she'd never come across any apprehension in Dale towards dwarfs, and could hardly understand why it wouldn't be the same the other way around. In the pubs they would drink together, in the streets they would exchange ware, and when she worked for Lady Fiona she learnt it was somewhat fashionable to wed a dwarf. Lyra knew she was coming from a world very different than what Thomas had experience.

"Aye, in Dale no one blinks an eye. But you must understand; the dwarves are a very private race." Thomas took a long drink from his ale and slammed the empty tankard down onto the table. Some of the men around the table turned to Thomas to hear what he had to say. "In the past, before the retaking of Erebor, seeing half-dwarfs was rare and they were looked down upon by dwarfs. I used to be called an _amur nazush_ when I was a child, which literally translates to 'dirty blood'. Many do not recognize half-bloods as dwarfs and as such I am blocked off from easily learning and understanding a culture to which I am part of." Thomas looked grim and much older than his years, his eyes taking on a kind of accepting sadness.

"But times have changed in resent years," he continued, "The race of dwarfs is declining rapidly and something must be done. They are so short of soldiers they must call upon aid from Dale; from men. Never had this been before. And this is not just in Erebor; all the dwarf kingdoms are declining. Erebor is the only one who is thriving under the enlightened rule of the King. With political alliances between men and Dwarfs mean half-dwarfs and even humans are holding higher positions within the mountain. But there are many who do not agree with this course, saying that it destroys the traditions held for so many thousands of years. And thus, the animosity we are presented with." A grim silence settled over the table of Dale solders. "A new time is coming. The question is, will the King bring forth this new age or crush it?"

Lyra thought on Thomas' words and the days events long into the night.

!

 **What did you think? That chapter was great fun to write! I really enjoyed getting some of the political aspects of the mountain into the story. And what of Kili? Do you like how he is portrayed? Do you think Moe is nice or not? Sorry for my butchary of dwarvish and I hope my spelling and grammar wasn't too bad this chapter. How you enjoyed it and see you next week!**


	7. Not So Different

**Chapter Seven – Not So Different**

 **!**

" _ **I think there's just one kind of folks. Folks." ― Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird**_

!

The following day after waking early and making sure to have a large breakfast, Lyra was collected by Moe from the mess hall and they made their way to Prince Kili's chambers. Lyra, curious to know more about her partner, asked about his family.

Moe, eager to talk about them, pulled a picture from his breast pocket and proudly presented it to the soldier. "This here's my lad Merl and my wife Far." The drawing, encompassed in a silver locket, was of a female and a child dwarf smiling happily. It was painted with such small and delicate brush strokes Lyra briefly marveled at the tiny piece of artwork.

"They're lovely," Lyra commented, passing the picture back to the proud owner.

"Me and Far met seventy years ago now and I knew she was the one instantly." Moe's eyes softened as he recounted the day. "We had Merl thirty years gone now and he's growing big and strong." Lyra again wondered at the aging of dwarfs, noticing that the boy in the picture looked barely ten years of age.

Soon Moe and Lyra made it to chambers of the prince. The El and Fel who were stationed at their posts looked relieved to see their day counterparts. El (or possibly Fel, Lyra wasn't sure) moved over to Moe and whispered something in his ear. Moe gave a quiet chuckle and with that wished the brothers a good day before taking up the same position as the previous day's post.

"He's got company," Moe commented lightly, a twinkle of amusement in his eye. "We best wake the lad and lass as the prince has been summoned by the king, and the king under the mountain does not like to be kept waiting."

Moe remained at his post and looked to Lyra with significance, but she just looked back in confusion. "I think you best knock on the door," said Moe, beckoning with his hands to indicated she should be quick.

Lyra gauged Moe's meaning, looking at the aged dwarf with slight betrayal, but none the less did as she was bid. She knocked once, then twice, and when she heard no stirring from within she was indicated by Moe to enter.

Lyra went into Kili's chambers reluctantly, the door squeaking loudly as it opened causing the young girl to wince. Lyra had not seen inside the prince's chamber before and found it to be very similar to his brothers, almost exactly identical in layout. However, where Fili's room had been a combinations of deep greens, Kili's was full of rich reds and burgundies. Lyra crossed the room, which was lit by a raging fire and the crack of light from a window high on the ceiling, and came to the dark wooden door that behind held the prince's sleeping quarters.

Pulling together all the decorum and straight faced strength she'd perfected as a maid in Lady Fiona's household, she gave the door two knocks and this time (to her huge relief) she received a reaction from inside. A giggle, a patter of feet and the unmistakable noise of clothes being carelessly thrown on. The door suddenly opened and from inside emerged the young dwarven lass who had been all fluttering eyes and shy smiles the previous day, but who now looked completely ravished and all the happier for it.

She ignored Lyra and strolled past her with all the grace of a noble, but still with the airs of a silly girl who had stayed up way passed their curfew. When the darrowdam had left the chambers, Lyra dared take a glance into Kili's room and was presented with a very pleased dark hair dwarf standing with his hands upon his hips, smiling widely and naked as the day he was born.

Lyra quickly looked to the floor, eyes wide in shock and the tips of her ears going pink. Kili laughed at her surprised reaction. "Moe sent you in, the coward," Kili proclaimed, turning around to search for his breeches and presenting his backside to the blushing guard. Lyra was not unfamiliar to the male anatomy having come across a few naked men in her time as a maid and, of course, many undressed fellers since having joined the army. Most didn't care if others of the same sex saw them in all their glory and so being ignorant of Lyra's true gender she had been presented with nude men many time; urinating, washing themselves or simply laughably walking round with their trousers around their ankles.

Lyra blushed not due to the nakedness of prince Kili but the sensitive situation she had caught him in. "You've been summoned to see the king," Lyra managed, pulling up her maid like decorum to save herself some face in the embarrassing situation.

Lyra moved back out to join Moe, who laughed heartily at the shocked look on her face, and Prince Kili joined them shortly afterwards. They moved as a system and Lyra thought she was beginning to understand the nature of being a personal guard. You were their shadow, not noticeable until necessary.

The the balcony where the King was apparently liken to hold council with his friends and family was nothing particularly special save for the view. Lyra and Moe stood in line with the other guards, each stationed at optimum points around the room to protect those present were the worse to happen. It was high on the mountain, overlooking the entrance hall to Erebor as well as the path leading to Dale. In the far distance the city of Dale could be seen burrowed in the valley and edging gracefully onto the water's edge. If one was to look even further then the lake town of Escargoth could be seen as a colourful dot on the black waters of the long lake.

The king stood resting against the buttressed, peering out over the road bellow, clearly deep in thought with one arm resting lazily on the wall before him. Lyra marveled at how high they were and in turn how warm it was in the little niche hidden into the mountain. It seemed that the engineering of the wall allowed for the hot air from the entrance hall to be guided up to the balcony, and the wind breakers at either side made sure the piercing wind of the mountain did not make the area too cold. Lyra noticed Fili seated to the side along with Balin and Dwalin, the second of which had his half leg upon the bench.

"Kili, you are the last here. Why am I not surprised?" a low rumbling voice said to which Lyra recognized was the kings. Kili stepped forward with a winning smile and grasped his uncle on the back.

"I am not late, everyone else is just early," he said with merriness that did not echo the slight irritation rolling from his uncle.

"Brother," Prince Fili spoke up, standing from his seat and grasping arms with his kin. The small group began to converse about the state of the kingdom, what needed mending and the general relationship with its neighbors. The idea of one of the princes marrying was brought up a few times, but brushed away by those inquestion quickly. The entire session simply seemed to be a catch up; no secrets or odd events, simply a group of dwarfs running a kingdom. She was sure secret meetings were held with no one present, not even guards, in locked rooms with no listening ears.

They almost make it look to easy, thought Lyra. But the lack of women present was something that didn't sit well with the girl.

"We'll need to send an ambassador to Urbem-upon-Celduin soon," King Throin spoke, not having moved from his position leaning against the wall. Thorin's piercing stare fell upon his eldest nephew and heir.

"I will go Uncle," suggested Fili.

"And Kili," The king instructed, "before midsummer." He nodded to the two brothers, the younger of which was very disgruntled by the idea, and with that the council was called to order.

Lyra noticed Kili and Fili move forward and put their heads together like two old women gossiping over the latest village scandal. Soon enough, Fili threw his head back and laughed loudly and Lyra was shocked to find his eyes on herself.

She kept a blank face, pretending to have not noticed his attention, but she could not ignore Kili calling her name and beckoning for her to step forward. Kili grabbed Lyra's arm and pulled her further into the center of everyone's attention. She could feel the eyes of everyone on the room, especially that of the kings.

"Fili, you were unconscious at the time, but this is the man who saved your life," Kili said proudly, as if she was his own child who had caught their first frog.

Fili, much like Kili had, stepped forward and grasped Lyra's hand tightly and with his other hand grabbing her elbow and pulling her forward into a type of hug. Lyra mirrored the handshake, but only to stop herself from falling down. "I haven't had the chance to thank you. I've been told your own nephew was inflicted with the same poison?" asked the blond haired prince. Lyra found herself staring very deeply into the light blue eyes of the prince who looked back with surprising amount of conviction.

"Yes, sire," Lyra spoke back, clearer than she'd anticipated.

"How old is he?" the prince asked, letting go of her hand and standing next to his brother.

"He is six, but when he consumed what he thought was wood garlic he was four," Lyra explained.

Kili gave a laugh at this. "Only four, and your all of ninety years' brother!" Fili blushed at the jest, clearly feeling embarrassed about the poisoning.

"It is not something to jest about." The king's voice was not loud but it was commanding and serious in a way that seemed to take all the air from the room. Kili's smile fell from his face instantly, and Fili seemed to flinch at his words. "Had it not been for Master Fraser here then you would be dead." The words hung heavily in the air. Lyra chanced a glance at the king and found him staring at her and she could have sworn he gave the slightest of nods in her direction.

"And now you are Kili's guard? Why are you being punished for saving my life?" Fili laughed, lightening the mood considerably by the change in subject and causing Lyra's attention to be drawn back to the princes.

Lyra was saved from answering by Kili's grabbing of his brother around the neck and pulling him into his armpit. The two dwarfs laughed together and with this the meeting was dispersed.

!

The week passed without event, with Kili going to court and meeting with women and sometimes taking time with his brother to relax or spar. Lyra quickly realized that Kili had an easy comrade with almost everyone; from commoners to nobles, there were few people that did not like the dark haired prince. Lyra mused that Kili would indeed make a good ambassador and she understood why his uncle had chosen him for the mission to Urbem.

Thursday heralded the end of Lyra's first week and her first day off.

"So what are your plans for tomorrow then?" asked Moe as they made their way together from their last shift of the week. Lyra hadn't thought much on what to do, knowing that one day wouldn't be enough time to walk to and from Dale to spend time with her family. She knew Thomas did not have the Friday off like her and so she thought that she might bask in her own company for once. Lyra said as much to her comrade.

"If that be so, would you care to join me family tomorrow for supper?" Moe offered with a smile. "When I told my wife of you she insisted I invite you to meet us and we'd be very happy to share our table with you."

Lyra was touched by the invitation. "Thank you Moe, that would be wonderful," she said sincerely. Moe had been incredibly welcoming and open minded towards Lyra and she knew the significance of dwarfs inviting you to eat at their table.

Moe smiled even wider through his bushy brown beard. "Then if you please, meet me at the training arena at any point in the afternoon. I tend to like to while away the day beating someone blue while the wife cooks up a feast." Lyra laughed at this image but promised to do just that.

Thus the next day, after sleeping in as long as she liked and taking a large and indulgent breakfast of eggs, bread and sausages, Lyra made her way to the training arena. Situated not far from the mess hall, as it was primarily used by soldiers to keep up their skills and strength, Lyra found it easily enough.

She had brought her bow with her but not her sword; not fancying sparing with someone far superior to herself. As she entered the hall she noticed a large arena with seating all around the edges.

Games must have been held here, Lyra thought. But this must also have been a long time ago as the seat were in somewhat of disrepair and the stone covered in a level of grim. The ceiling was incredibly high; as high as the entrance hall even. There was one large chandelier hanging in the center of the room with probably space for 100 candles lit at any one time. The main source of light was from windows open to the air at the top of the wall; long slits allowing curtains of bright light into the room that illuminated the space and allowed a cool breeze to sooth the exercise bellow.

Moe beckoned Lyra over to him from the side of the room where he was standing with a number of other dwarfs. Moe introduced Lyra to those gathered, and each one gave their name and an acknowledgement of 'at your service'. These dwarfs were of good spirit and Lyra found herself laughing along with them easily.

"Will you spar with us today?" asked one of those gathered who had a thick grey beard and a stocky build. The group began to move towards to the part of the arena separated for wrestling and Lyra looked with wide, shocked eyes. Moe laughed heartily and patted her on the back with force.

"Don't look so frightened lad, I bet you're stronger than you look," he said kindly, trying to cox her to join in the fighting.

"I am to practice with my bow, I think," Lyra told them, politely turning them down. The company present laughed at this and nodded in acknowledgement, appraising her slight form. Lyra was in no mood to be beaten into the ground and she was of no illusions where her strength lay; hand to hand combat was not one of them.

Lyra moved to the edge of the arena on the far side where archery practice could be done in peace. There were much fewer people here; two men who she recognized as in the archer regiment like herself and one dwarf. Lyra practiced with her bow long into the afternoon, making a sweat but feeling much the better for having practiced at her craft.

"You're very talented lad," Moe commented from behind her. She jumped in surprise, not having realized he was there, to which her partner thought this very amusing. "You should carry your bow with you on duty, you know."

Lyra's eyebrow rose at this. "But it is unconventional, isn't it?" she asked with a frown.

"Oh aye, but you'd do more harm with a bow then I bet you could with a sword." Moe motioned to the targets Lyra had been aiming at and how almost all had hit their mark. "Come, let us make our way to my wife before she comes and pulls us to supper by our ears."

Moe motioned Lyra to side room which she realized too late was a bath house and changing area. Lyra's face went red instantly at her mistake. "I will go back to my quarters to get a change of clothes I think," Lyra told Moe, moving back from the room full of undressed dwarfs. Moe gave her a strange look but nodded bemusedly. "I'll be back in a moment."

Lyra rushed from the sparing hall quickly and tried to stop the blood rushing to her face. She made her way in a haze through the corridor and when she had made it to her room she slammed the door and lent against it in relief. It was strange, but Lyra had stopped thinking that she was different from these men she worked with everyday. They were comrades and trusted each other with their life. She knew that she should watch herself a little more as she was in a danger of slipping up and revealing all with the comfort she felt within these halls.

Lyra washed her face and changed quickly and met Moe back at the entrance of the hall. She was dressed in Freya's husband's old trousers which had been sewn to fit her without revealing her figure, and a dark green tunic with a leather waistcoat designed to hide any possible bumps from her bosom. Lyra realized how skinny and tall she looked like next to this dwarf, a head shorter than herself, but hoped that she did not look too feminine. She knew she looked like an ordinary girl when presented as a girl, but dressed as a boy she assumed she just looked like a slightly feminine male. She had begun to learn that people typically accepted what was in front of their eyes; a likely lie over an improbable truth.

Moe led Lyra deep into the bowels of the mountain where she had not visited before. They came to a type of market place with a long street and houses dug into the mountain of up to three stories; oil lamps on long poles dotted the streets on the edge to illuminate the area. High above them she could see bridges from higher levels and platform that probably held similar streets. The young soldier girl marveled at the size of the mountain city once again.

Moe showed them to a small cottage type house at the end of the street with a low front door and small glass windows on the front. The construction of the house was built into the rock making the walls a smooth granite and allowed no indication of the size behind the entrance. Lyra spotted a number of windows higher up as if to indicate multiple stories.

"Come on in lad," Moe offered, and so Lyra found herself inside a warm house with low ceilings and comfy fittings. The roof was stood just higher than Lyra so she did not have to duck much, but she found herself crouching none the less to stop her head knocking herbs and pans that hung on the walls and support beams.

"Far my love!" called Moe to his wife. "We're back!" The pitter patter of feet from around the corner, growing ever closer was the answer to his call and a small child Lyra could only guess was Merl came running around the corner with a shout for his father.

Moe kneeled down and scooped up the child happily. "You're late sir," came a feminine voice from further in the house. Moe put down his child and walked towards his wife as she walked around the corner angrily. Lyra was first taken by the vivid colour of the dwarrowdams bright red hair, making a beautifully long beard braided with beads of many colours and hair in an elaborate up do Lyra could only envy.

"My apologies my wife, but I have brought a young man for you to scare witless so I feel I should be forgiven." Moe was swatted away by Far with a frown and a roll of the eyes, and Lyra suddenly found herself face to face with the fiery woman. Far smiled with fat cheeks that made her seem feminine and motherly and stepped forward to give Lyra the warmest hug she'd ever received.

"You must be Luke. We'll have to fatten you up boy, you're far too skinny!" announced Moe's wife loudly, beckoning for Lyra to follow her through to the next room. There was a dark wooden table laid out with dishes of roasted vegetables and potatoes; Lyra thought she had never smelled anything so great. Lyra sat down and was handed a large tankard of ale by Moe. In the corner of the room a fire blazed hot, surrounded by cushioned seats and thick carpets.

Far came from what Lyra assumed was a kitchen with a large roasted bird. Lyra could not help but look in wonder at the rich foods they were eating and the pretty ornaments on the walls that spoke of wealth; in awe of difference in life styles between men and dwarf.

"You are a strange looking dwarf," a voice to Lyra's right said boldly.

"Merl, be kind," Far scolded her child as she served him his food.

"That is because I am not a dwarf," Lyra replied kindly, not at all offended by the childish curiosity. "I am a man."

"I've never met a man before!" Merl said with excitement.

"Well now you can say you have," Moe told his son, smiling at him with amusement.

"Why does he not have a beard, papa?"

"Ask Master Luke yourself," Far scolded again, having served everyone the food and sitting down to start eating.

"Master Luke," Lyra heard Merl mutter, blushing at having been told off by his mother. "Why do you not have a beard?"

"Some men never grow beards," Lyra answered seriously. "I may never grow a beard."

"Never?" asked the child shocked. Lyra shook her head with a smile and turned to her meal piled with carrots and potatoes and bird and beans. Far had smothered Lyra's dish in thick gravy source and as Lyra took a bite she melted into her chair in delight.

"This is beautiful," Lyra said though a mouthful of roast potato. Far seemed very happy with Lyra's enjoyment and the meal passed quickly with fine conversation and good food.

When the meal was done Moe and Lyra moved to the fireplace to sit and talk and were joined shortly by Far after she had put Merl to bed. They each had a glass of red dwarven wine in their hand and Lyra deemed it acceptable to have just one more drink so as not to offend the host.

"So can you tell us about you, young Luke?" Far asked gently, and Lyra repeated the story she had told Thomas all those months ago about tending the land of the farm until Freya's husband passed, at which point she joined the guard.

"I am sorry to hear of the death in your family," Far acknowledge with sadness. "What of your parents?"

Lyra paused, "they died when the dragon attacked Esgaroth." Moe looked very solemn at this.

"My father and mother perished when the dragon first took the mountain," he told Lyra softly who nodded in understanding.

"You have taken a great mantle to care for your sister and her three children," Far said. "Do you yourself not want to marry?" There was a sharpness in Far's eyes Lyra did not rightly like and she inwardly squirmed under the darrowdams particular look.

"My sister could do little, being with a bairn, and so it was my job," Lyra explained carefully. "We would have starved or frozen to death without my position in the guard."

"And you make a brilliant guard too, what with you saving the prince!" Moe announced, patting Lyra on the knee.

"But you do not wish to marry?" Far pushed, frowning deeply.

"I honestly do not think the chance will ever come about," Lyra told them honestly. The money for a dowry was in hope that Freya would find a new husband; not herself. If anyone found out about her time as a guard then she would be shamed and probably named a whore, if not executed. If no one found out and she was able to leave the guard peacefully then that may be a different matter; but that option was not something Lyra had dared to hope or entertain.

The evening came to an end and Lyra thought she should head back to her bed for the early start tomorrow. "Thank you for a wonderful meal Far," Lyra told her gratefully, to which the dwarrowdam enveloped her in another tight hug.

"You are welcome at anytime, no matter what," Far told her firmly, looking at her intently. "You are a strong one, Luke."

She wished the couple goodnight and set on her way back to her sleeping quarters. It was not until she had walked for ten minutes that Lyra realized she had made a wrong turn. She tried to retrace her steps but found herself in some other place she didn't recognize again. A panic started to set in Lyra's chest as she began to think that maybe she'd wonder the mountain by herself, lost in its depths for the rest of her life. She squashed these thoughts as quickly as they had risen and tried to figure out her path.

The easiest course of action, Lyra thought, was to walk up and from there she may be able to find a high up balcony overlooking the entrance hall. From there, all the baloneys eventually led to the same corridors and she could find her way home. Steeling herself she began to ascend. Due to the late nature of her voyage she did not cross another soul who might be able to direct her, and Lyra walked up and up until there were no more stairs. Ducking in and out of corridors she came across a little door that recognized and, grasping that this might be her escape, opened it and found herself on a balcony.

Lyra was even more joyous when she realized she knew exactly where she was and that from here she knew exactly her way back to bed. Lyra moved from the shadows and was illuminated by the large moon that reflected down onto the Royal Baloney and headed towards to the stairs that led to sleep.

"What are you doing here?" questioned a deep, almost growling voice from behind her. Lyra spun in a circle in panic, being caught very much by surprise. When she recognized who it was she bowed instantly at the hips and mumbled a quiet 'your majesty'.

The king stood against the wall like he had the other day, silhouetted against the bright moon and with a hand upon the sword at his side. Lyra realized the king was waiting for an answer and so she was quick to speak.

"I was lost, sire," she said stutteringly, heart beating still from the shock.

"It's you," he said blankly. Lyra chanced a glance at his expression and found the usual thoughtful frown upon his brow. Lyra did not know what to think of this acknowledgement and so stayed silent. The king turned to look out of the front of the mountain at the black lake and its surrounding inhabitants. Lyra suddenly noticed something important.

"You're alone," she said dumbly.

"Well observed Master Fraser," the king said with sarcasm making the girl blush in the dark at the mockery.

"You do not have your guards, sire." Lyra knew all the royalty were required to have an escort at all times in and out of the mountain, and so finding the king without his worried Lyra somewhat.

"As king I can do as I please, and a bit of solitude is not too much to ask I should think," he replied, surprisingly talkative compared to his usual one word or silent answers she had witnessed over the past week. Lyra frowned at this, still standing in the middle of the balcony fidgeting. "You do not agree?"

"It is not my place to agree or disagree with you, sire." Lyra stated truly, knowing that her opinion held no meaning. After years under Lady Fiona Lyra had learnt her place.

The king did not speak but instead beckoned for Lyra to come and stand next to him at the wall. Lyra moved reluctantly, like a startled cat, up to the wall and looked down on the illuminated town of Dale. Standing next to King Thorin Lyra noticed how tall he was compared to other dwarfs: half a head shorter was all there was to it.

"I find humans very strange," said the king as if conversationally, but Lyra knew he would not hold a casual discussion with her for no reason.

"In what way, sire?" she questioned hesitantly.

Thorin looked to the town before him as if to prove his point. "You sleep so exposed, in huts made of mud and walls made of wood."

"Our mud huts keep the rain off our heads. We cannot all have a mountain to shield us from the elements," Lyra spoke softly and perhaps, she thought later, both a little too feminine and bluntly. The king studied her as she presented her words.

"Would your people choose to live in the mountain if offered?" asked Thorin.

The hypothetical questions were confusing Lyra. "Probably not," she conceded. "But we are made of softer stuff. Mud and water, rather than solid stone."

"Is that what you think of dwarfs? We are cold, hard race?" anger crept into the kings voice, but Lyra did not back down.

Lyra bristled, "I think you are twisting my words, sire."

"Forgive me, I am talking as if you understand the burden I hold. I have many things on my mind." The king looked very tired and world weary in that moment and some deep part of Lyra wished to comfort the solemn king. There was silence for a moment before Lyra bravely spoke up again.

"We are not so different, humans and dwarfs," Lyra told him hesitatingly. "But the mountain is mysterious place to most normal folk and even probably those of noble birth. They admire it at a distance and with great apprehension."

"And that is how is has always been," a gruff type of humorless laugh erupted from the king's chest. "Pray tell, Master Fraser, how would you bridge that gap?"

"Well, marriage is how it has always been done in times of old, has it not?" Lyra said thoughtfully.

"Between men and men, dwarfs and dwarfs, but never between the two; not for royalty," the king told her. "And thus is my predicament." The king remained silent for a moment before standing straighter as if having been woken from a stupor. "I trust you will not repeat this conversation?" the dwarf king told Lyra sternly.

"Of course, your majesty." Lyra almost went to curtsy but stopped herself and made a messy bow instead.

"I bid you goodnight then," he spoke, clearly dismissing Lyra. At these words Lyra bowed again and quickly made her way down the stair and to the areas she recognized. Soon, she was back in her room with the door firmly closed.

Her heart beat fast in her chest and her hands felt clammy and hot. Her reaction, she told herself, was only to be having been caught so unaware and talking to the king. Lyra found sleep hard that night as thoughts of quiet conversations with handsome kings alone on high baloneys fluttered before her eyes.

!

 **This was an exciting chapter to write! What did you think? What was your favorite interaction? Thank you to all you lovely people who have review the story and told me what you think; I appreciate it so much and it is such a motivator to post every week. See you next week!**


	8. Responsibility

**Chapter Eight – Responsibility**

!

" _ **Never forget what you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armour yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you." ― George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones**_

!

The following week off Lyra was to visit her sister; having two days off to take an over night trip to Dale. Lyra and Moe's shift came to an end on Thursday evening and so Moe invited her to share a drink in a local tavern in celebration of a week well done. Lyra felt like a good drink would go down well and asked if she might bring along her friend Thomas who Moe had yet to meet. El and Fel took over from them with a smile and the pair set out to grab Thomas from the mess hall.

Before they could take two steps however, the doors to Kili's chamber were slammed open and out tripped the young Prince who was buttoning up his shirt in a panicked manor.

"But my Prince!" announced a squeaky voice from inside the room. Kili slammed the door and swallowed heavily. Earlier that day Kili had taken a questionable choice of bedmate from court; one whose laugh echoed off the wall in an annoying shrill and it seemed the young prince was regretting his choice.

"Where are you two going?" asked the Prince, looking over his shoulder in apprehension, and catching up to his two guards with gusto. El and Fel fell into step behind the Prince, officially having taken over roll of protector. "Mind if I come along?"

One could not simply say no to a prince.

"We're grabbing a drink lad, at the Sunken Jewel, in celebration of the end of the week," Moe explained with a chuckle.

"Is working tirelessly for me all day not all the celebration you need?" Kili asked with mock offence.

"What of your lass?" Lyra asked, laughing.

"Where?" Kili's eyes were wide with fear as he looked over his shoulder again, not seeing anybody behind him but his night guards. "Oh, she'll get the hint and leave… hopefully."

They reached the corner of the hall and Lyra told the unlikely duo that she would meet them there. Over the past two weeks she had learnt her way to and from the mass hall to Kili's chambers and to the main areas of the mountain. Lyra and Thomas had visited the Sunken Jewel not three nights past and thus she felt confident in her announcement that she would find the tavern.

Lyra found Thomas seated in the hall with a mouthful of bread, but he was more than happy to abandon his meal with promise of good ale.

They made their way up and down stair cases and through low ceiled corridors until they came upon the pub. Pushing the door to they were greeted with a loud uproar of noise and song. The breath and bodies of many dwarfs and the odd Dale soldier made the air a particular warmth that could only be replicated by a bunch of sweating males in a confined space; dwarf and human alike.

Thomas gave a loud laugh as he heard the music to a particularly rude song. "I'll grab us some drinks," Thomas announced over the noise, but Lyra grabbed his arm and pointed over to the corner where Kili was waving at them with two large tankards in his hand. "Luke over here!"

Thomas froze beside her. "Is that the…prince?" Thomas asked, his voice becoming high. "You didn't tell me the prince would be here!" Her friend looked at her with wide eyes.

Lyra just laughed and pushed him to the corner to where Moe and Kili had evidently found a booth to sit. As they got closer they noticed that their commanding officer Dwalin was amongst them. The on-duty guards for the prince stood to either side of the booth and as Lyra approach El nodded to her as if to indicate she could be seated.

Lyra sat down into the booth and dragged Thomas down with her. Kili passed them both a large tankard and Lyra laughed as Thomas took a long drag.

"Your majesty," Thomas said as way of introduction, before taking another drink.

"This is Thomas Halder," Lyra introduced for her friend to those at the table who did not know him.

Moe reached around Lyra and presented a hand to the frightened young boy. "Moe, son of Merl, at your service." Thomas look the offered hand with a smile, having heard about Moe from myself.

Dwalin looked upon Thomas with a frown. "Halder, aye? That's not a dwarf name," stated the gruff dwarf, eyeing Thomas with a fierce look. The half-dwarf clearly did not like what their commanding officer may be implying.

"No, it is my mothers name," Thomas stated in a defensive tone.

"Alright lad, keep your nickers on. I was only asking." Dwalin grumbled under his breath. The disfigured dwarf pulled an unhappy expression as if shaking away a memory that reared its ugly head.

"You didn't know your father then?" Kili asked innocently, merely curious. "That's very unusual, isn't it Dwalin? To have a bastard dwarf. I don't think I've ever met one."

Thomas kept quiet at this comment, either from anger or awkwardness Lyra couldn't tell.

"So I hear you're to be married lad," Moe questioned Kili in a rapid change of subject and the prince in turn stuck his tongue out in disgust.

"I don't want to get married." The prince slouched back in his chair.

"Maybe you'll like the girl and fall madly in love and have lots of tiny Kili's wondering around," Lyra suggested with a raise eyebrow.

"Or maybe I'll be unhappy for the rest of my days," said the boy in return grumpily.

"Marriage is a wonderful thing, lad," Moe interjected. "And if you are blessed with children then all the better."

"But at the moment she's some random human girl miles from any mountain range."

Dwalin rolled his eyes. "Urbem isn't that far."

"And she's also a princess, no?" Lyra added.

"Yes yes, shut up all of you," Kili huffed, folding his arms over his chest. "I came here to hide from women, not talk about them."

Moe and Lyra laughed at this; Lyra found the irony of his comment even more amusing considering they all unknowingly had a female in their mist.

Lyra was near the end of her drink and as a rule didn't ever buy a second, lest she lost some control and reveal her secret. As she stood to wish the party good night she noticed Dwalin and Thomas in light conversation and was glad that her young friend hadn't been too offended with the questions earlier.

!

The following day found Lyra walking down the mountain and past Dale to the little house on the outskirts of the city. There she was greeted with loving arms and smiles of happiness.

"Aunty Lyra!" Jacob shouted in joy running to his aunt who held her arms open widely to receive a hug.

"Aunty Lyra!" Martha echoed happily, stumbling a bit but making it to Lyra with equal enthusiasm.

Freya met her sister at the door and hugged her tightly. "We've missed you these past weeks," she told her sister, bringing her inside and helping her with her bag. Lyra went to change out of the male clothes, happy to put on a cotton, green dress and wrap her head in a bandanna to hide her short hair. The feel of being feminine made Lyra sigh happily and she walked with exaggerated swaying over to her sister so to make the dress spin around her ankles.

They sat to have a cup of tea, her niece and nephew playing in the garden happier than they were before now that Lyra had returned. The aunt in question sat with Murphy on her lap, rocking him up and down gently while his mother prepared warm drinks.

"Has old man Philips been giving you the wool still to spin?" Lyra asked idly, handing Murphy back to Freya in exchange for the tea.

"Yes of course," she told her sister. "I have even begun to learn how to use a loon!" Freya proudly picked up a small piece of cloth and presented it to her sister. "This is from my first lesson with Lavender Jenner."

"They have a loon?" asked Lyra, remembering Lavender from her youth as a quiet girl from a poor family.

"They do now since her older sister, Mary, was married to a dwarf," spoke Freya, smiling with wide eyed interest and sat at the table. Freya had always enjoyed gossip, not for the malicious nature of the sport but simply for a way to spend her time.

"I have noticed more marriages between dwarfs and humans." The conversation with the kings the previous week sprung to Lyra's mind but she squashed it down.

"I have noticed that to," Freya acknowledged, "but so have the attacks."

"Attacks?" Lyra asked, not remembering any such instance in her time as a guard in Dale.

"Aye, two last week and one this week. Mary's husband was one of those attacked." The idea of interracial marriages being a target for attacks unsettled Lyra and she resolved to look into the matter in the mountain to see if anyone might know the reasoning.

As Lyra sat there contemplating her sister's words, Freya fidgeted on the edge of her seat, fussing with Murphy. Lyra knew her sister had something to say.

"Freya, what is it?" Lyra asked, raising an eyebrow in question.

"Well," began her sister, looking up through her lashes. "There has been some talk about town about you." Freya bit her lip hesitantly.

Lyra was surprised. She hadn't thought anyone would even remember her as she hadn't had many friends, but she had worked in the Hogarth household for many years so she was somewhat known amongst the servant's circles.

"Come of Freya, just tell me," Lyra insisted.

"They are saying you are a whore in Lake Town." The words tumbled out of Freya mouth and Lyra was sat stumped for words. How had this come about?

"Well I was considering it at one point…" Lyra mused somberly, thinking of how her reputation was surely destroyed. Were she to leave the guard now she would have little hope of finding any job apart from that of a whore. She wondered how this had effected Freya's reputation but dismissed the thought for unhelpful; Freya had many friends and was loved by all those who met her, she was not in any danger.

"Oh please, you're far too much of a prude!" Freya suddenly announced, breaking the tension in the air that was mounting by the moment, and the two girls laughed freely at the idea. When they had calmed down Freya spoke again. "Lady Fiona has been spreading these stories. She was saying how she dismissed a maid, oh she said some awful things about you! Anyway, she said that the only work you could find was that of a whore and since you haven't dared show your face in town…"

The last part of true; she hadn't gone into town as 'Lyra' in a long time. Luke was better known amongst the guards and she couldn't risk being seen or recognized. Lyra just shrugged.

"Maybe we'll run away when Murphy gets old enough," Lyra announced suddenly. "We'll run away to Rohan and become street performers!" Lyra smiled cheekily at her sister. "Think you could learn to juggle fire?"

The sisters laughed together, the tension Lyra hadn't noticed in Freya's shoulders released, and the rest of the evening and the next day was spent happily completing chores, tending the vegetables and playing with the children.

!

Soon enough a month had passed since Lyra started working in the mountain. She was sending money down to her family weekly and in that time little Murphy grew bigger and stronger by the day. Things in the mountain fell into a harmonious rhythm for Lyra but she felt as if she was being lulled into a false sense of security.

This was confirmed when, in one of the council meetings upon the balcony, it was announced that the diplomacy mission to Urbem-upon-Celdium was to be brought forward and that they were to leave before the week was out.

"But uncle, that is a two-week journey," complained Kili.

Thorin ignored his youngest nephew and continued, "Fili, you speak in my name and I trust you will do it justice." Fili nodded seriously at his uncle. Thorin looked to Kili and his expression softened but the look he gave the younger dwarf was one of significance.

"I am told that Princess Ilithia is as beautiful as she is lovely, and I trust you will be able to use your diplomacy to win over the ruling house of Urbem to our side." Kili nodded stiffly at his uncle, doing as he was bid but the petulance in his manor was clear and unhappy.

"What has brought this forward uncle?" Fili asked in a worried tone.

Dwalin answered for him. "The tales of unrest in Urbem is great, with dwarfs and sympathizers, as they have been named, being attacked in the streets," the disfigured dwarf said gruffer than usual. "Even in Dale there have been attacks on interracial unions. This needs to be crushed sooner rather than later."

There was a silence as the party present absorbed the information.

"And bring Master Fraser with you," noted the king as if in after thought. "I believe his presence would be a good mediator." Lyra was surprised to hear herself mentioned but a grumble of agreement went about the room and the meeting was called to an end.

Lyra and Moe moved to follow a disgruntled Kili from the council room when he was beckoned by his uncle to stay behind. Thorin move his head close to his nephew in a gesture of fondness.

"Kili, this is a necessity. I believe you must come to terms with it," said the king is a softer voice than she had ever heard. Kili signed and looked dejected but nodded his understanding.

!

 **So how do you feel about Thomas' situation? Or the politics between the dwarfs and the people? What of Lady Fiona's lies? Let me know what you think and what you think might unravel on this diplomatic mission!**

 **Sorry about the later update! Next Chapter will be up in a week.**


	9. Urbem-upon-Celdium

**Chapter Nine – Urbem-Upon-Celdium**

 **!**

" _It's a good idea to have your own books with you in a strange place" ― Cornelia Funke, Inkheart_

!

A few days before they were due to set off Moe was absent from his shift, causing great concern for Lyra. In his place a royal guard was sent, informing both Lyra and Kili when they enquired that he had fallen ill to the River Flu. Lyra felt deep fear at the idea of the illness, having seen the full extent of it when she had dropped off the supplies to Oin all those months ago.

However, when she visited Moe at his house he told her not to fret too deeply and that he'd be on his feet again in no time. "Just means you'll have to go on this mission without me Luke," he told her, patting her knee affectionately. "But you make sure those lads don't cause you to much trouble…" Moe seemed to mean something more than what he was saying and Lyra felt deep discomfort at this.

Nonetheless she tried to not worry for her partner and friend and instead prepared for the journey to Urbem-upon-Celdium. Soon enough the time came where a company consisting of the two princes and herself plus ten additional dwarven guards set out from the lonely mountain to the city of men.

Thorin came down to the entrance of the mountain to bid the party farewell and wish them a safe trip. The king embraced each of his nephews heartily and in khuzdul gave, what Lyra assumed, was an official safe journey to the party of dwarfs. As they began to mount their horses Lyra was surprise to find the king approach her specifically.

"You have proven to be a reliant addition to the guard and a good friend to my nephews it would seem," the king told her seriously. "Perhaps your luck will extend to giving wise council to those who are reluctant to follow duty." The king glanced at his dark hair nephew before retreating from the entrance somberly.

Lyra did not know what to think of King Thorin's words and decided not to let them worry her to much; she knew she must protect the prince and that was her place.

The procession of dwarfs and one single human moved from the cover of the lonely mountain and travelled down the great road that led to Dale. They were positioned so that there were five dwarfs to the front and five to the back, with two abreast where it allowed. Lyra found herself riding behind the princes by herself and she was glad as she was having a small trouble with the horse.

Lyra had not ridden many horses in her life and so was struggling to control the boisterous mare she was seated upon.

"Woe girl," muttered Lyra, patting the beast in a hope to calm her and get her to trot at a steadier pace.

"Having trouble with your horse Luke?" Kili asked, looking over his shoulder and smiling in a lopsided grin at his guards struggle. "I thought you were a farm boy!"

Lyra rolled her eyes at the prince. "We dealt in small produce, not plowed fields," grumbled Lyra, frustration getting the best of her. The prince, laughing, pulled back beside her and reached over and put a placating hand on the mare, who instantly calmed down.

"What are you, a wizard?" Lyra announced in confusion as the horse began to move at a smoother pace.

"You just need a gentler hand, don't you girl?" Kili told the horse, sniggering at Lyra's put-out expression. The rest of the ride to Dale consisted of Kili trying to teach Lyra to ride a horse properly with Fili and the rest of the company adding in here and there tips and suggestion. There was much laughing as Lyra fumbled through her riding lesson, but it was all meant in good humor and so Lyra did not begrudge being the butt of the joke.

They passed Dale without incident before midday and Fili, not having talked much with Lyra before the trip, began to question her about her family in idle conversation. "We live on the edge of town," she told him as they made their way of through the south gate of the city. "There will be a turning in a little bit, and if you follow that for a few miles you will come to my families' modest cottage."

That evening they settled on the banks of the river on the west side between the water and the trees of Mirkwood. As the moon rose above the campfire and the pot of broth sat cooking upon the flame, a thought passed Lyra's mind.

"What is the date today?" she asked to no one in particular.

"It is almost the end of April, perhaps the twenty-forth," answered Fili who sat a few meters to her left. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, I have missed my birthday," she muttered, "I am one year older and I didn't even know." Lyra laughed dryly at this idea but shrugged at thought, not really caring for such markers.

Kili sat up from his position by his brother with surprise. "That is awful!" he announced, getting to his knees. "How old are you now?"

"One and twenty," Lyra mused, not thinking much of her words.

"You are one and twenty? I'm surprised, I thought you were barely out of the human childhood, perhaps sixteen?" Kili said in confusion.

Lyra cursed herself inwardly, forgetting that she was pretending to have a much younger age to hide her femininity. "Just because I have not grown a beard," she bristled, trying to distract from her sudden disconcerted disposition. She could not believe she had made such a slip up in the continuity of her woven tale of lies.

"Kili do not be so rude," scolded his brother, rolling his eyes at the lack of tact the younger displayed.

Kili did not seem disheartened by this news, but instead gave Lyra a strange kind of expression. A similar look, she would note later, that Moe had given her before she'd left for this quest.

"I just assumed you were born after the reclaiming of Erebor…" Kili told her, frowning. "Your family was in this area at the time?" There was clear apprehension in his voice and Fili looked up at interest to the query.

"They were, yes," Lyra said gently. She watched Kili squirm for a while as he reframed from asking that which he wished to know but knew was none of his business. Eventually, after having been handed a bowl of warm stew and all were eating peacefully, she put the prince out of his misery. "My parents perished in the dragon attack on Escargoth when I was but four and my sister was ten," Lyra said soberly.

Kili looked as grave as she had ever seen him. "I am sorry," he told her sincerely, and Lyra noticed with some surprise that he seemed to understand and personally take upon the responsibility of the dwarfs in regards to the attack.

Lyra took his words for what they were and no more was mentioned of the dragon that night.

The dwarf company crossed the great lake with no incident the following day but decided to forgo visiting lake town, not wanting to get held up in customary greetings and politeness. The boat delivered them on the bank of the east side and the horses and gear were unloaded.

"Why do we not take a boat down the river?" Lyra asked Kili as they were mounted and began the ten-day journey south-east to Urbem.

"The river runs slowly;it would most likely take us twice the time to reach the city," he explained. Lyra understood his meaning but the saddle sores were already creeping onto Lyra and she wished they had at least considered a boat.

The journey as a whole was uneventful. The company did not deem it too necessary to stop and wash when they came upon little streams or bodies of water, which Lyra didn't mind at first; that was until her monthly bleed began. Before then she had been discreet in doing her business and getting changed, and nobody had made any notice of her goings on. They were dwarfs and she was a human; maybe humans were just very prude.

So when her period reared its ugly head as they rode along a dusty road on an especially warm day, uneasiness crept upon her. She knew they were not due to stop for hours yet and if she were to wait then a puddle of blood would be seen upon the horses saddle when she was to dismount. Seeing a thicket of trees and bushes she seized the opportunity and swallowed her pride.

Lyra urged her horse on forward so that she was riding besides the princes and in the most dignified manor she could muster, she lent over and muttered in Kili's ears. The prince looked upon her in sympathy and amusement, and pulled his horse to a stop, indicating for the entire party to do so.

"Lets… erm, take a moment," Kili told the group who huffed unhappily and complained at the hold up. Lyra gave Kili a thankful look and dismounted quickly, subtly grabbing her cloths from the saddlebag and hurrying to the woods. It didn't take her long to sort herself out and on her return found some of the company looking at her with amusement. She mounted her horse quickly and the company continued on their way.

Fili looked over his shoulder with mirth. "Feeling better?" he asked him with a smile.

"Ah, don't worry about it lad," came a voice from the back.

"We all shit ourselves sometimes!" said another, and with this the entire company erupted into laughter. Lyra tried her best to melt into the saddle and her red face did nothing to quiet the laughter that followed her for a next few days

!

The group was travel worn, dirty and in a sorry state to behold indeed. Thus, when they approached the gate of Urbem-upon-Celdium they found the guards hesitance too allow them entry; thinking them a group of the unsavory kind. When Fili stepped forward with the royal seal of Erebor they were quickly led through the city, to the center where the palace was situated.

Urbem was a wealthy city; a large trade town and the only sizeable cluster of civilization for miles. The inhabitants had an almost exotic nature about them, being so far from others that they had developed a self-contained system of cultures. As the procession moved through the city the aroma of spices and herbs filled the air, and colorful curtains in shop windows and covering stall from the sun meant a rich experience for the senses. The houses were not dissimilar to that of Dale but much older and made of lighter, paler stones than that of her home city. The city seemed so much warmer than their northern home due to the easterly wind that came upon them from the desert land.

There were many people mulling about on the cobbled streets; more than Lyra would have expected. She noticed a large proportion of people were carrying weapons and that there were many groups of men, meeting on corners and huddled at the edge of the road, sneering at their group as they rode by. The thick atmosphere took on a new meaning when Lyra noticed how unwelcome a company of dwarves seemed to be.

The city was positioned on a type of hill on the parting of the river Celdium that led south to the Sea of Rhur and north to the Iron hills. They seemed to move higher and higher the closer they got to the palace, entering different rings of classes with metal gates, each time the architecture would get more elaborate and expensive. They were directed away from parts of the city a number of times due to 'construction', but evidence of that was sparse and this confused the company. Eventually found themselves at the palace.

The palace itself was under construction. Lyra knew that in the last sixteen years since the reclaim of Erebor that Urbem had taken on a new lease of life and that wealth flowed greatly through the rivers that it sat upon. The redoing of the old palace, which had seemingly fallen into disrepair, was to be expected.

"They are strengthening their defenses," Lyra heard Fili say to Kili as they were helped from their horses by a page. Seeing Lyra's confused expression Kili leaned over to her and began to explain the position the City found themselves in.

To the north was the Iron hills and Erebor, and to the west the elves. It was the last stronghold of man before the great eastern expanse and for that it had touristic appeal for scholars and learned beings. To the south, however, there was nothing between them and the mountains of Mordor. Were the kingdom of Orcs to decided to march upon the city they could do very little to protect themselves upon such an onslaught.

They were distracted from their conversation when the page asked for them to follow him to the throne room. They entered the palace though a large archway of white marble and into a long hall with a high ceiling. Unlike the dwarven architecture that Lyra had grown used, to the entire place was made of white stone with rounded edges and lots of natural light. At the end of the hall sat a throne made of ostentatious yellowy gold that held none of the charm King Thorins throne had commanded.

The hall was not empty. Although there was no king seated on the throne, there were two men standing in the center of the room deep in conversation. There was a tall, leering looking man and well-dressed handsome one.

"May I present the princes Fili and Kili of Erebor and their travelling companions, my liege," spoke the page clearly as he bowed and stepped aside to present the party. He then addressed the company. "Sirs, I present to you the crowed Prince of Urbem, Edvard and the royal advisor Raskip." The page bowed once again and moved to stand by the door.

"The princes of Erebor," the prince of Urbem announced, shock written on his face and his jaw caught in a tense, almost angry motion. "What a surprise!"

Fili and Kili bowed low out of respect to the prince and four nobles moved together to shake hands and exchange uncaring pleasantries.

"You must be travel weary, please let us sort out some rooms for you and your companions, and then you may present yourself to the King and princess," Prince Edvard told them. "I have quarters in the lower parts of the palace for your soldiers and for your highnesses we can have the guest suites in the royal apartments-"

"We'd like to remain on the same floor," Fili interrupted. The prince did not like being interrupted.

"Very well," Edvard spoke after a moment. He beckoned the page to approach them and muttered something in his ear. The prince was typically very good looking, with a height of six foot, broad shoulders and a thick back. He had hair styled long; gather in a honey brown pony tail at the nap of his neck. His face was pleasant apart from a curl on his upper lip that spoke of displeasure; most like from being in undesirable company. Lyra was sure that he permanently had this expression upon his face.

The company followed the page and after a few staircases and corridors, not even a fraction as many as Erebor Lyra mused, they reached their rooms.

Lyra was directed to the room next door to Kili's and the same was said for Fili's guards. The rest of the company were much further down the corridor but still on the same floor. Lyra entered prince Kili's chambers first to check for any hidden dangers and when she deemed it safe permitted him to enter.

Lyra unfortunately could not immediately clean up as the prince needed guarding at all times, so herself and Moe's very somber replacement Sal, took it in turns to put their belongings away, wash up and change. Soon enough Sal had returned and so Lyra went to her room just around the corner from her royal charge.

The room was relatively bare. There was a basin to the side that was full of hot water and a mirror placed above it. The bed was small and rickety and the floor bare stone; the meager decorations and bed sheets were a much to be desired mustard yellow. Her quarters at Erebor were much more grand.

Lyra washed the grime off her face and body from the two weeks of travel like a snake shedding it skin. It was a happy feeling that Lyra very much basked in. She donned her Dale guard uniform that she wore when she guarded the prince and, having taken Moe's instructions weeks ago, put her bow on her back and a quiver of arrows at her hip.

She was ready to guard the prince.

!

Fili and Kili were dressed in some of the finest robe of satin and silk. Both of their chambers had baths for them to clean off in and so they smelled of lavender soap and their hair was oiled and smooth. Kili in particular looked well cleaned, knowing he had to make a good first impression on his hopeful-betrothed.

Lyra followed the princes along with the other guards to the throne room where they had been received before. This time, however, when they entered the room was at court. The noble lords and ladies stepped to the side of the room to make a path for the dwarf princes and Fili and Kili, side by side, made their way to the seated king.

The king was a fat man. He had a balding head and the hair that was left was a soft grey. His face was round but it had a jovial spirit about it, with laughter lines at the corner of his eyes and a strong chin that spoke of his nobility. He was dressed in colorful satins of bright purples and yellows and large jewels adorned his neck and fingers of blue sapphires and emeralds of green. Upon sat his head was a crown of the same yellow-gold of the throne.

"The princes of Erebor, welcome!" announced the king, and as one the hall bowed and curtsied to the dwarf royalty. "You are much earlier than we expected you, but you are welcome all the same."

"I thank you your majesty," Fili told the king with a bow and a charming smile. "I am Fili and this is my brother Kili."

"Ah yes," said the king, smiling brightly. "Then may I present to you my son, who I believe you have already met, Edvard." Edvard stepped forward from where he was standing to the right of the throne and gave a small bow of respect. "And who I know, you are much more eager to meet, my daughter Ilithia."

The princess Ilithia moved from around a group of handmaids who had been shielding her from sight, and gave a pretty and perfect curtsy. Lyra admitted to herself that the tales of her beauty had not been exaggerated and that she was indeed very lovely.

"It is a honor to meet the princes of Erebor," the she said in the sweetest, gentlest of voices. Ilithia was dressed in a gown of white silk, bejeweled with diamonds and gold lace that revealed a womanly figure bellow. She had soft skin and rounded cheeks, red lips and dark eyes. Her hair was a rich blond that sat at the bottom of her spine, falling in soft ringlets. The most interesting thing, Lyra noticed, was how short the lady was; not even five feet tall.

"The honor is all mine, Princess," Kill told her with a flamboyant bow. "I have heard tale of your beauty, and they do not do you justice."

"We are to hold a ball tomorrow night in your honor, if you are to agree to it," the king announced, causing excited murmuring amongst the lords and ladies present.

"That would be marvelous," Fili said jovially, and moved forward to converse with the king about their journey and the early nature of their arrival.

"I would like to take this opportunity to ask for the hand of Princess Ilithia for the first dance," Kili declared charmingly, taking the princesses hand and bowing over it respectfully.

"That would be most pleasing," the princess told Kili more quietly, blushing prettily at the attention. "And I would like to offer my company tomorrow morning to show you my home."

Kili smiled warmly at the princess and moved away to join his brother and the king.

!

 **Sorry it took me a bit of time to update! What did you think of this chapter? Anything funny going on in Urbem? What do you think of the prince and princess?What about Lyra's little accident? Thanks!**


	10. The Conspiracy

**Chapter Ten – The Conspiracy**

!

" _Your mind is working at its best when you're being paranoid. You explore every avenue and possibility of your situation at high speed with total clarity." ― Banksy, Banging Your Head Against a Brick Wall_

!

The following day found Fili spending most of the morning and afternoon seated with the king and their advisors talking about the terms and conditions of a marriage between Erebor and Urbem. In addition to this they discussed many trade deals, political polices and defensive strategies that kept the blond prince completely distracted.

Kili, on the other hand, was distracted by a much sweeter task. Lyra followed behind the couple with Sal and the princess' guards and watched the two talk in hushed voices and shy smiles.

Lyra did not think she'd ever seen Kili so enraptured by a woman before. There was no doubt the princess was lovely and that any male would no doubt fall under her feminine charms, but the same could be said the other way round for Kili. Thus, together they whiled away the afternoon completely entranced by one another.

When they parted ways to get ready for the festivities that evening Kili placed a very delicate kiss upon the hand of the princess, causing her to blush prettily and walk away giggling with her handmaidens.

"You seem to have had a fine afternoon, your majesty," Lyra commented, suppressing a smile.

"Oh shut up," he told her, still watching the princess walk away.

Later that day in preparation for the ball, Lyra was dressing in her normal guard uniform and was attaching her sword onto her hip when the dark haired prince of Erebor burst into her room unannounced and began to pace about the room.

"They didn't know we were coming early," Kili told her, still pacing and not looking towards her as he was deep in thought.

"I guessed as much," Lyra said, thinking back to the shocked expressions they had been greeted with by Prince Edvard and the advisor.

"They are unprepared," Kili mused, "Hiding something."

The dwarfs on guard stood outside her chamber as the prince strolled around the room. Kili moved to the window and curiously looked out across the city for a moment before setting his eyes upon her and frowning.

"What are you wearing?" he asked in confusion, the previous conversation suddenly forgotten.

"My uniform," she answered slowly, also confused.

"But we're going to a ball!" said the Prince, throwing his arms in the air in exaggeration as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"But I am your guard, Kili," she told him gently.

Kili rolled his eyes and without a word left the room. A moment passed before he returned with a tunic and breechers made of black satin. "Here, try this on," he told her, scrutinizing her.

"Why?" she asked perplexed.

"Because you are like a trophy piece tonight," Kili told her, struggling for words as he tried to explain the delicate situation. "Your presence should attest to the fact dwarfs and humans can work side by side."

"But doesn't Erebor's close relationship to Dale show that," she asked, looking at the piece of posh clothing as if it was going to bite her.

"Just put it on," Kili told her with exaggerated exasperation and left the room to sort out his own wardrobe.

Lyra did as she was bid and found the sizing to be slightly too short in height and slightly too wide around her chest. But when Kili returned (although Lyra really should have found him, but the prince was far to impatient to do that) to be escorted to the ball he nodded his approval and she shrugged away the discomfort. He was wearing a dark red doublet and breeches to match.

"What do you think?" Kili asked, preening in front of the vanity mirror.

"You look like a prince?" Lyra told him with a shrug, thinking with fondness his inflated ego didn't need help from her.

Kili seemed hesitant to voice his thoughts suddenly, standing a bit self-consciously as he looked upon himself with a critical eye. "Do you think the princess will like it?"

Lyra's eyes softened, smiling gently at the young dwarf before her. "I think she will find you very handsome," Lyra answered honestly, thinking that Kili was in fact very handsome; dwarf or not.

Lyra was given orders by Fili to stick close to Kili all night, just as his guard was to do the same for him.

The brothers entered the ball with a flourish and were immediately escorted to the high table, situated where the throne would usually go, where the king was seated. Lyra stayed in Kili's shadow and remained ever aware of the threats of the room. She took note of the prince of Urbem on the right hand side of the king and his gangly advisor on the left. She also noted of a man of military standing on the other side of the prince. He was dressed in a white uniform and decorated with medals of golds and silver. The prince Edvard, Lyra noted, seemed very interested in what he had to say.

"The princes!" the king announced, getting to his feet with difficulty considering his large gout and holding up a large glass of wine to the two dwarfs. The room hushed as the king prepared to speak. "I am honored to have two of the line of Durin in my house as guests and would like to officially open the ball in the name of Prince Fili, the heir of Erebor, and Prince Kili. May your goblets be full and your hearts be merry this evening." The speech was short but sweet and the entire room cheered at the words.

Thus the ball began.

Lyra had attended many balls in her life as Lady Fiona's handmaid and so was familiar with the customs of greeting those of importance, having light conversations and making a good impression, eating the food to show good spirits and taking at least one dance about the room with an agreeable partner.

Kili, doing both what he was excepted and Lyra suspected what he wanted to do, offered his arm to the Princess Ilithia and thus they took part in the first set of songs. Lyra stood to the side, knowing she could not rightfully follow Kili onto the dance floor, and instead observed the room and thought deeply on what she had witnessed of Urbem so far.

The town itself was beautiful, but they had not been able to see a lot of it due to the construction going on. Within the palace there seemed to be a lacking of guards and Lyra knew that Urbem boasted a strong regiment. The construction was to build up defense; which could be explained away with the mounting threat from Mordor. The prince and the general constantly had their heads together in discussion and she had seen many times the prince glance at Kili with what she could only describe as apprehension.

They were being too careful, Lyra thought echoing Kili's earlier assessment. The King of Urbem was a man of good spirits and a beloved ruler, but not the brightest of monarchs. He'd seen the discontent between the dwarfs and the humans and decided to arrange a marriage and thought this should patch things up a little.

His advisor, the tall leering man with a sweating upper lip, seemed of a shrewder sort. He most likely recognized the benefit in having a marriage for a secured protection from the south in return for a secured trade route. The general Lyra knew too little about to gather anything reasonable about him, but then there was the prince. Considered handsome by some but his demeanor spoke of ambition more than genuine relations between nations. Something was not sitting well with Lyra, and she could not put her finger on it.

Lyra followed Kili dutifully about the room. Many would ask Lyra about her position in the mountain, how it felt being around dwarfs all the time and wasn't it horrible to live in a cave. Lyra, politely and firm, told those who enquired that she enjoyed her work, her station and the company of her fellow soldiers; dwarf or man. That she felt privileged to work amongst such great halls as that of Erebor and to work under such honorable employers.

"You're quite good at this diplomacy thing," Fili had commented to Lyra when he'd heard her answer a particularly difficult question about female dwarfs, and with as much tact as possible Lyra steered the conversation from the subject she knew to be rather prickly for dwarfs.

"I feel as if my tongue is made of lead," she told the prince honestly, watching as Kili told a tall tale to a group of noble women, of which included the Prince Ilithia, about how troll of twenty feel tall he fought single handily when he was but a boy.

"Well turn it to silver like Kili's and we'll make a noble man of you yet," chuckled the blond haired prince. Lyra was saved from replying as Fili was whisked away by a diplomat asking about lumber in the north.

"Are you having fun?" Kili asked Lyra as they found a seat to the back of the hall away from the fawning women and slimy noblemen. Lyra noted that their situation, sitting at the back during a ball away from the crowd, somewhat mirrored the situation almost a year ago when Lyra had first laid eyes on the Princes of Erebor.

"It's not really my place to have fun at these things," she told Kili with an ironic smile.

Kili rolled his eyes. "You're very chivalrous you know? One day, you'll make a lovely woman a fine husband." Lyra couldn't help but laugh at this comment and she waved off Kili's questioning glance at her sudden behavior.

"So, the Princess Ilithia," Lyra began, thinking on Thorin's words before she had left the confines of Erebor. "You both seem to be getting on rather well. I would even say that you liked her?"

Kili snorted. "She is as beautiful as she is witty," admitted the prince, but the sign that followed spoke of deeper discontent. "I just never imagined marriage when there are so many beautiful women in the world."

"But this isn't just any beautiful women, this is a princess," Lyra reasoned, "and I don't think I need to mention how important this particular princess is." Lyra gave the young prince a significant look to which Kili just pouted.

"This is still your choice at the end of the day," she told Kili after a moment silence. "You've just got to make the right one."

Lyra could not unfortunately leave the ball until Kili decided he was done and as the night wore on his royal highness managed to get more and more inebriated. Kili was flirting shamelessly with the princess, his resentment at having to marry clearly not overshadowing his lustful nature. As a result of the flirting and the dancing the Princess Ilithia also fell under the spells of the free flowing wine. Lyra was not at all surprised, therefore, when the two royals stole away from the party and made their way to the quarters which Prince Kili had been given.

Lyra, doing her duty as Guard along side Sal, followed him to his quarters quietly and respectfully. As they entered the room Kili turned around and gave Lyra a wink of accomplishment and the soldier girl simply rolled her eyes at the Princes antics.

As she stood guard outside the prince's chambers Lyra thought deeply about how they might determine the nature of the Urbem nobles. Soon she was relieved by the dwarfs chosen for the trip to be night guards. With a nod in their direction, Lyra made her way to her bed for a restless night.

!

It was the early hours of the morning when Lyra derived a plan.

She managed to obtain a maid's brown dress and apron from a basket which had been freshly washed. It had been sitting in the hallway ready to be sent to its owner when Lyra snatched it. She'd also gained a white bandanna type cloth which the maids tended to wear when they were married. When she'd gotten back to her room she judged that Kili would not need her attention for at least another hour, the sun not having risen in the sky yet.

Lyra first removed the bindings around her breast, allowing her measly bosom to sit freely for the first time in weeks. Donning the dress, apron and headscarf she went to the vanity that had been provided with the guest room and marveled at the change. She did not think anyone was like to recognize her; the outfit was tight and displayed her curves, her breasts were obvious beneath the dress and the scarf gave the illusion of more hair than she owned. Just to be safe she pinched her cheeks to give them a reddish glow and smiled her most charming smile to the mirror.

Lyra left the room and wondered the halls. No body looked twice at the maid as she moved about the palace, lowering her head and curtsying lightly when those of notable birth walked the corridor. Knowing she was unrecognizable as a member of the dwarven company she was able to get into parts of the palace that had before been blocked off.

What she discovered unnerved her greatly. The parts of the palace being constructed were meant to strengthen defense, but the majority of the work was directed to the north-west side of the city rather than the south towards Mordor.

They expect an attack from the north – from Erebor, Lyra thought with concern.

Lyra moved though the palace with silent feet and a submissive demeanor. She had forgotten how invisible you were when you were a maid, and especially how no one seemed to think that you were much of a threat if you were a female. Lyra reached the gate of the palace and found it blocked by guards and so instead opted to walk upon the wall and see if she could see what was going on in the streets they had been stopped from seeing.

Lyra could not see much but she did notice how there were many smiths and armorers in that part of the city, who seemed to be working very tirelessly. She also took note of the amount of armed men in that part of the city; many of them dressed in colours she didn't recognize and armor of soldiers.

Lyra moved from the wall back into the palace. She was not wholly satisfied with the information she gathered but Kili and Fili, with their political experience, might be able to work out what she'd seen. The pretend-maid walked up a set of winding stairs and along a long corridor she recognized as a servant's passage; being long and thin and full of tables with food laid out and baskets of washing and cleaning equipment.

Lyra stood to the side as a group of maids passed, and then began to set off up the corridor with her head down. This proved to be futile however.

"What do you think you're doing?" said a severe voice from behind Lyra. She spun on her heels and came face to face with a very elderly, angry lady. She was dressed as a maid but Lyra knew she was the head of the household staff just by her intimidating presence. Lyra knew in that moment she'd been caught.

"I-I-I…" Lyra was shocked and at a lose for words. She looked around her for some type of explanation but her mind had gone blank faced with this stern faced woman.

"D-d-d-o you have a stutter? Are you mute?" mocked the old crone crawly.

"No madame," Lyra muttered, looking down at her feet as her ears went red at the scolding and her heart pounded wildly in his chest.

"You must be Susan's replacement; you're three days late you know! Get that platter from the tray and join the other girls then," directed the older woman, pointing to the table laden with rich breakfast foods. Lyra didn't hesitate in doing as she was told. She grabbed a platter full of exotic fruit, most of which Lyra hadn't seen before, and spied a door to the left which looked like a servant's entrance. Without looking back to check that she was correct Lyra went through the door and nearly ran into another serving maid standing in a line.

"Shh," the girl in front told her, turning to frown at Lyra as she inelegantly stood waiting; what for, she didn't know. Before she had time to think the line began to move and Lyra could do nothing but follow the girl in front and copy her actions.

The girls were led through a side door of a large, white room. Inside was a long table with a bright white table cloth upon it set for six with expensive silver cutlery, fine china plates and crystal glasses. At one end of the room, which Lyra gathered was the breakfast room, was a long window with red curtains to either side and the floor had a luscious thick carpet embroidered with golds and whites.

Lyra, who was the last to leave the side passage, eyes were first drawn to Prince Edvard who sat in the seat at the end, usually reserved for the head of the family. Either side of him sat the tall advisor and the old general. None of the party looked up as the food was brought and laid upon the table before them. Lyra followed the example of the other girls and moved to stand to the side of the room, until a long spindly arm reached up and grabbed her wrist tightly.

"Where is the wine?" asked the advisor through yellowed teeth and an expectant expression.

"I will attend to it my lord," Lyra spoke demurely and with respect, the years of service with the Lady Fiona coming back to her automatically as the words tumbled from her lips without thought.

"You are new," Raspik observed with a leer. "Where are you from, girl?"

"Raspik, we are busy," the Prince huffed angrily, obviously used to the mans lecherous behavior. The advisor let go of Lyra's arm reluctantly. The maid, which had been in front of Lyra, caught her eye and indicated to the corner of the room where a table of drinks was set out. Lyra nodded in thanks before walking to the table, picked up the jug of red wine and returned to the table to fill up Raspik's glass.

Lyra, recognizing the opportunity for what it was and listened to the conversation with rapt ears.

"…don't think this is a risk?" the general, who Lyra had yet to catch the name of, huffed through his thick white moustache.

"My sister is loyal as she is stupid, she would not betray the plan," commented the prince shrewdly.

"She went to her suitor's bedchamber last night," Raspik told the table.

Edvard rolled his eyes. "Getting between her legs and pillow talk. Hostage situations is hardly pillow talk," he told them. "She was told to seduce the prince and she has succeeded greatly in distracting him." Lyra's heart caught in her chest at this news, fear like ice in her veins.

"And what of the blond one?"

"What of him?" The prince was getting impatient.

"He is not distracted," Raspik pressed, clearly worried.

"He has his head full of trade agreements from the silly southern men father insisted on hosting last night," the prince took a sip from his cup of water, not having taken a glass of wine. "My father, as always, is doing his part of ignorance very well."

The prince laughed heartily at his own insult to his father and the two men present laughed along with the royalty.

"Will we move forward tonight?" asked the general with excitement, crumbs from the pastry he had been eating sitting upon his moustache as he talked.

"No rush, I should think," the prince told them cryptically. "They arrived earlier than planned and the collection of troops is not yet strong enough to fight the army of Erebor; a weak army though it is. If we move too early we could risk being unprepared."

The breakfast continued with idle conversation concerning the ball the pervious night, their gossip eerily similar to that of Lady Fiona. Lyra did not listen to the chatter between the lords, her ears too full of blood from the panic that was rising in her chest.

Hostages? Armies? Did Urbem-upon-Celdium plan on attacking the dwarf kingdom, and using the princes as hostages against Thorin? What madness was this?!

The rest of the breakfast passed in a blur and soon enough the lords present left to do their business and the maids began to clean up the table. Lyra grabbed a platter from the table, the one of fresh fruit that the company had not even touched, and walked though the servant's door to the passage she had come from originally. She slipped away quickly and quietly from the head of the household and sprinted away.

Lyra ran through the corridor, carefully looking behind corners before rushing to the next. Her heart was hammering in her chest at what she had just heard. She needed to talk to the princes as quickly as possible. She spied her room at she meandered up the stairs, her dress hitched up so she would not fall upon its hem. Reaching the door, she pulled the handle too, rushed into the quarters and shut the door firmly. Lyra took a breath and rested her head upon the wood, composing herself for a moment before she turned around and beginning to undo the knot on the apron. Carelessly she unlaced the dress and as it fell to the floor she stepped out of it, and into the trousers she'd thrown off earlier in her hast.

She began to put on her tunic when she remembered her breast bindings and sighed in relief; that would have been a disaster. Lyra sat on the bed and like many times before began to wrap the bandages around her chest tightly and securely. So, wrapped up in her thoughts and her task she did not hear the panicked footsteps as they raced to her room and so when the door was thrown open all she could do was stay seated, just finished with her bindings, and stared with wide eyed shock at Prince Kili entered her room.

!

 **Been a while since an update but hope you enjoyed the chapter! What's going to happen? Has Kili discovered her secret?! See you soon!**


	11. Luke and Lia and Lyra

**Chapter Eleven – Luke and Lia and Lyra**

!

" _I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will."_

― _Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre_

!

Lyra froze.

Kili looked at Lyra for a moment, not really seeing her through his own worried state, and turned to close the door hastily. He then stilled abruptly, shoulders tensing and breath halting in his throat. Slowly, he moved his head to look over his shoulder; disbelief upon his face. They locked eyes in that moment and the Prince's mouth fell open in shock, forgetting for a moment whatever it was he'd come in for.

"What-" he began, looking at her chest bindings and girlish figure with little to no comprehension. Lyra shook herself and cursed her lack of reflex as she quickly reached on her bed and pulled on her tunic.

"It's not what you think," Lyra said in panic, not knowing what else to say.

"Are you a…girl?" Kili asked in horror. "Oh mahal, you're a girl!" Kili did not move from the door, just continued to stare at his guard, puzzling over the bizarre piece of information. Lyra didn't answer, but instead slowly stood, her hands before her in a calming motion as if she were to approach a frightened animal.

"Yes," she said simply, not thinking that any other explanation would successfully clarify the questions in Kili's head.

The prince stood a little straighter, and Lyra realized that he was only in his under garments, having clearly come straight from bed. "Well… yes, I guess you are," he said, looking unbelievably confused. "I guess, it was rather obvious," he said again. "Its odd no ones seen it before," he muttered, more to himself, and then looked at Lyra once again in horror.

"You've seen me naked!" he announced, pointing at Lyra in an accessory tone.

"I think half the females in Erebor have seen you naked Prince Kili," Lyra told him dryly before she could stop herself, gesturing to his current state of undress.

He then looked down upon himself, realized his improper attire, and looked up at Lyra once again with new eyes that appeared wide and embarrassed. Looking about the room he spotted an under coat sitting on the window sill, strolled over with haste and grabbed it to wrap around himself in some semblance of modesty.

"I don't know how I feel," he told her with a sniff, lifting his chin and frowning again. "I feel a bit betrayed." Kili sat on a stall at the window and crossed his arms across his chest, his expression hurt.

Lyra felt incredibly guilty and sat down on the bed again in defeat. "It was never supposed to go this far," she muttered, half to herself. "And no one was ever meant to find out."

"I just thought you were very feminine," Kili said, muttering under his breath, clearly still in shock. "Luke isn't even your name, is it?"

"It's Lyra."

"Lyra?" Kili looked at her ask if she were a strange apparition. "That's odd."

Lyra felt defensive. "It's a very normal name."

Kili's look was dry and unamused. "It's not the name I take issue with."

The room was deathly quiet. Lyra took a breath and, in a thick voice asked the important question, "Are you going to tell everyone?"

Kili looked surprised. "I… don't know," he admitted, "I need to think." Kili made no move to get up and leave and so Lyra sat on the bed and faced him cautiously. She suddenly remembers her morning, the shock of Kili's arrival wearing off.

"Kili, there is something you must know," she told him hastily. The prince eyed her suspiciously. "They are planning on taking you and your brother hostage and going to war with Erebor," she said in an urgent whisper, aware she was talking of treasonous plots in enemy territory.

Kili signed, not seeming surprised by her revelation. "Yes, that's what I came in here to tell you before…" Kili waved his hand through the air in a wild gesture as if to explain. "Ilithia told me before she left this morning."

Kili grew gave; understanding that this was the true issue to be faced. His face became ill and his countenance apprehensive, but his eyes grew sharp as they looked at his guard. "And how did you come by this information, _Luke?_ " Kili said, emphasizing her fake name to show his distrust.

Lyra rolled her eyes, recognizing the prince's petulance for what it was and not true distrust. "I stole a maid's uniform and went exploring," Lyra explained, somewhat shyly. "No one thought much of me and I was accidently forced to serve the prince breakfast." Lyra blushed, knowing her story sounded somewhat outlandish, but it was of course the truth.

Kili sighed in resignation, taking Lyra's word for the truth. "Ilithia said they were planning to take Fili and I captive and hold us hostage for leverage over Erebor," the dark haired prince explained. "For the moment we will ignore… this thing," he motioned to Lyra again, lacking words.

"We need an escape plan," Lyra said thoughtfully. She began to finish dressing for the day and she thought. "Have you told Fili?"

"He was not in his chambers, having been asked to attend breakfast with the King," Kili explained in agitation. "But I don't see how we'll be able to escape with all of the company."

"You might not be able to," she explained gently, "you and Fili are the priority, after all."

"I will talk to my brother," Kili said with a nod, walking to the door with purpose. Before he left he stopped short and glanced over his shoulder somberly. "I am relieving you of your duty," he told her. "For today, at the very least. Stay here and wait for my command."

Lyra sat on her bed feeling dejected and depressed, worrying over the potential consequence at having been found out, but mostly thinking deeply at how they may get the princes from the palace unharmed. The day was long and hot wind from the east did not help to lighten Lyra's mood or save her from her heavy thoughts.

When the sun had almost set, Lyra realized the true extent of the predicament between Erebor and Urbem. Open warfare against the two cities could be the result of this clash and a prolonged war against the two nations would not only claim the lives of many men, it would put her family and the entirety of Dale in harms way.

Flashes of a time long gone, huddle up against a wall within the old City of Dale in her sister's arms. The shout of the dying and the battle cries of the victorious echoed in her ears and for a moment she could almost see her nephew and niece in the same situation; their family lost and fear set deep into their hearts for the rest of their lives.

 _No,_ Lyra thought. _I will not let that happen_.

Fili came to Lyra that evening and told her of the plan. Lyra knew from Fili's urgent but casual countenance that Kili had not revealed her secret just yet to his brother. For this she was thankful.

"Are you well?" Fili asked frowning and surveying her with a critical eye. "Kili said you were unwell."

"I am fine," Lyra reassured, "when the plan take place?"

The idea was a good one, not amazing or faultless, but it could work. They were to sneak under cover of dark into the depths of the palace and through a system of tunnels which would take them a mile north-west of the city. At their emergence they would move to the river and take a boat to Erebor; the winds were apparently favorable.

"How is this all arranged?" Lyra asked with suspicion.

"By the Princess Ilithia," Fili said with excitement, "She says they have taken her for a fool and that she wishes to protect her kingdom from her brother, Edvard. He is planning a coup against his father and to march on Erebor as soon as provisions are ready."

Lyra was not shocked by this revelation, having come to this conclusion herself from her snooping that morning. "How much does the princess know of the plans?" Lyra asked, her old friend anxiety creeping into her bones.

Fili grimaced. "It would be my intention to stay longer and learn more… but it is too risky."

"What would you want to know?" Lyra's voice was panicked but excited; she had a plan.

Fili gave her an apprehensive look. "The numbers, the cavalry, the commanders, the intentions," he said, with a shrug. "I'd also like to know whose idea it was."

Lyra was confused. "You do not think it was the prince?"

"Ilithia says her brother had a secret benefactor." Lyra was deeply concerned with this news. "I must go, be ready in an hour." Fili moved to the door before Lyra called his name hesitantly.

"I shan't go," she told him sternly.

"What do you mean?" Fili looked very concerned at his brother's guard.

"I will stay and gather the needed information," she said, nodding to herself.

"You'll get caught," he said, completely bewildered.

"I won't," and she knew she wouldn't.

"What do you mean?" Fili was beyond confused. "It's too dangerous."

"I will disguise myself." Lyra stepped forward and lowered voice, willing the prince to understand. "I am a human man of nothing special, no one will look twice at me. I will gather the information and be gone as soon as that."

Fili studied the man before him critically. "It could work and we do need the information," he relented somewhat guiltily, "But it is your choice."

Lyra nodded, firm in her decision. Fili recognized this and gave her orders. "Then find what you can within two weeks, and no longer lest you be discovered. We will mount an army and march along the road we took to get here. This is most likely where we will battle. Do you remember the abandoned mill, forty clicks north-west?"

Lyra thought and nodded her understanding. Fili reached into the pocket on his coat and pulled out a leather pouch of coins, handing it to Lyra insistently, "You may need this to get there. Meet us there 20 days from now."

"Can you please tell my sister I am well?" Lyra suddenly asked, "she will be so worried."

Fili looked surprised at the request but nodded gravely once again. There was a solemn pause as Prince Fili looked at Lyra with pride. Fili offered Lyra his arm and the girl soldier took it firmly. "You are very brave to do this, a true soldier of Erebor," Fili told her, "you may save us all yet."

Fili left her chambers in hast and as soon as the door swung shut Lyra set to work. She donned the maid uniform with practiced ease and gathered her belongings together. She knew she would need her clothes and weapons again when she was finished with her task and so took a wicker basket from the corridor and stored her possession in there. Then she left the room and began to move towards the servant passage, tucking the basket under her arm as if it were full of dirty clothes and she was just taking it to be washed.

Lyra descended deep into the bowls of the palace until she came across a store room which looked somewhat under used. When she opened it she found jars of pickled vegetables and shelves of dried herbs; the siege storage, she assumed. Knowing there would be no need for anyone to visit here in the next few weeks she decided this was the best place to leave her belongings. Lyra moved to the back of the room and stuffed the basket behind a large barrel of some type of alcohol.

She stood tall then, catching her reflection in a glass jar, and inwardly steeled herself for what was so come. Lyra moved about the palace and eventually made her way to the servant's quarters and the maids sleeping rooms. There, she found someone who looked in charge and announced herself.

"Lia Fowler," she told the woman, realizing how similar this situation was from when she had signed up to the guard as she gave yet again another alias. "To replace Susan."

The lady, who looked about forty, smiled at her gently and directed her to a bed at the end of the room. "You'll sleep here lass," she told her, "and you report to me in the mornings, alright? We'll keep you busy."

Lyra sat on the bed and looked up at the thin crack of a window above her and realize how late the hour was. She then laid down her head and waited a little longer. In the early hours of the morning, when all the beds in the quarters were still, a loud horn could be heard echoing through the city to indicate the escape of a prisoner.

"The company of dwarfs and the human guard has kidnapped the princess," they said, and Lyra moved about the palace in the same frenzied state as the other maids. The search was short and the first morning as an official maid in Urbem had begun.

!

Lyra didn't like being a spy.

She had fallen into the job as a maid with unsurprising ease. The facade was easy, and the dishonestly was nothing new to her, but somehow, she felt a greasy discomfort at her underhand work against the city of men.

She was not a personal maid like she had been all that time ago to Lady Fiona but instead worked in the kitchens helping to prepare meals for royalty and serving them every lunch. Lyra kept her head down and did the job sufficiently enough that nobody questioned her presence. Why would they? She was dower, submissive maid that was rather plain and wasn't particularly chatty; nothing of interest to anyone.

The first week was uneventful and boring. Lyra found out though exploration and listening at opportune moments that the number of foot soldiers were at five thousand strong, the number of mounted men at two hundred, and that it would be the general and the prince that led the assaults. The King, as Lyra had suspected, didn't know that any of this was happening.

In the dead of night Lyra crept from the maid's quarters and climbed to the tallest tower in the palace where she knew the messenger birds were kept. As she walked she passed a few guards, but as if she wore a clock of invisibility they did not think much about her presence and she was left unquestioned.

The tower was unguarded. Lyra pulled a small note from her pocket and looked for the darkest bird she could find; those she knew went to the bird pens in Erebor. Lyra wrapped the note around its leg and tied it safely. She brought the bird to the window and let it fly into the inky black of the starless sky. Lyra preyed her message reached its target.

It was not long until the second week was upon her. This time she decided to make somewhat of a friend with a gossipy young maid by the name of Harriet. Maids talked an awful lot after all, and why not exploit that observant and carelessly loose tonged attribute. She knew this was the only way she would gain the information she needed; doubtful she would get another opportunity to just over hear a sensitive conversation. Harriet, who was actually the girl to help her when she had been asked to get wine by the Raspik, loved to chatter. So much so that she seemed to know everyone's business, the comings and goings of all lords and ladies and why the king had fallen into such a sadness of late.

"He misses his daughter terribly since she has locked herself in her tower after she was recovered in the sewers last week," Harriet had told her. "Not only that, but his son has begun to turn all the guards against his father and now he isn't even allowed to leave his room!"

Lyra was surprised by this. The king was being held captive; now just a figure head to keep the peace of the city, but with no real power. The coup had already taken place; quietly and without drama so that no one even noticed there had been a shift in power. The thought unnerved Lyra greatly. This, again, was something she thought worth to note and send a bird about. She could not risk sending very many birds, lest someone notice they were missing, so she decided to only send one more bird before she left.

There was also another problem for Lyra; Raspik. He had taken a particular interest in Lyra when she was to serve him. He would look down her dress when she would pour him wine and pinch her bottom when she would turn around. This behavior, she was sure, would progress into more aggressive approaches were she to stay longer than the two weeks she promised Fili.

As the week was closing to an end and her deadline approached, Lyra still hadn't gotten much information on the weapons and intensions of Urbem. The weapons, Lyra decided, she could gauge by visiting the forges in town and the intensions she supposed she could probably gain from Harriet.

Thus, two days before her departure, Lyra linked arms with Harriet and together they went for a walk through town. "Lia, you want to walk through the forges just to get a look at some topless men!" announced Harriet, her red curls bouncing around her head under her bonnet as she gave her new friend a wicked smile. "I like it!"

They entered the street and were given appreciative eyes by some of the men at work and the soldiers who tended to hang around that part of town. Lyra began to count the forges and what they were making. Most were making swords (typical), but a disproportionate amount were crafting arrows and bows. This did not sit well with the soldier girl.

"I wonder why there is all this trouble to have this silly war," Lyra commented, giving her friend a roll of the eyes and a bemused smile as they stepped out of the way of a pair of soldiers. Lyra noted that the smithing was winding down and there were many less soldiers upon the streets than expected, most likely meaning they were getting ready to march.

"Well, did you hear about the prince?" Harriet asked her, smiling wickedly. Lyra and Harriet soon found themselves walking away from the blacksmiths and to the center of town where the market was held.

"No," Lyra told her, in the most curious voice she could muster.

"Well," began the girl, who was in fact a very good story teller, "so it has been said that he hates dwarfs, but it has also been said that he has more ambition than sense. Since Erebor and Dale and all that dragon nonsense Urbem has been thriving, yes? And the king has all the glory of the success. Well, Prince Edvard doesn't like this and feels that it is his turn for glory. So when there was talk of a trade agreement through marriage the prince was not happy, and wanted to use force.

The king, apparently very publicly in front of many of the ladies of court, told his son in no uncertain terms would there be a war between the two nations. Well, the issue was settled, you'd think. Well no, actually. The prince then gets a mysterious letter from a benefactor who has supplied the means to build an army, all behind the kings back. So the prince gets his army and his war and is hoping to find glory, so it is said." Harriet finished her story with wide, beseeching eyes and Lyra gave the correct response in her stunned silence and shaking head.

"Well, who was this benefactor?" Lyra asked Harriet, eyes wide with surprise.

Harriet smiled, wanting Lyra to ask this exact question. "Well, that is the most interesting bit of it all. Apparently it is a dwarf."

"A dwarf? Funding a war against Erebor?" questioned Lyra, utterly blown away by the idea of treachery in the dwarfs.

"I know!" screeched the red hair maid.

That night Lyra knew she had to risk sending a message to the king. She found a pencil and paper and wrote a detailed letter explaining all she had learnt before walking to the tower at a very brisk pace. Once she knew she was out of sight from any of the guards she raced up the staircase leading to the Tower of Bird's and opened the door, rushing into the room swiftly.

"My dear Lia," said a voice from the side of the room. Lyra noticed a candle sat upon the wooden desk which had been empty the last time she was there. This time, however, the worse possible man was sat before the desk. "Why have you come to the Tower of Birds so late?" Raspik asked her, standing from his seat and walking around the bench to approach her.

"My lord," Lyra stuttered out, curtsying before him gracefully, and clasped the letter in her hand behind her back with panic. "How are you this evening?"

"Quite well," he told her, his yellow smile and leering countenance causing a shiver up Lyra's spine. "So, what brings you here?"

"To send a letter my lord," she told him.

"Tut tut, you know you cannot send a letter from here. These are the king's birds," Raspik rasped, taking another step towards Lyra so that she could feel his hot breath was on her face.

"Well, I thought you could make an exception for me," Lyra told him, looking up at the advisor with large eyes and an open mouth. She had never been very good at flirting, but she knew that Raspik would take anything he could get his hands on.

"Did you now?" he asked, moving far to close to her now. Lyra moved quickly, ducked under his arm and moved purposely for the bird she knew was to be carrying her message.

"I did sir," she told him as he watched her pick a bird, as if randomly, and quickly tie the letter upon its leg.

"I'm sorry my dear, but even for you," he said, moving to block her movement towards the window.

"Oh really?" Lyra said, eyes wide again and teary. "But my brother is so sick, and what if mama doesn't get here in time? I don't know what I'd do!" Raspik's arms came forward as if to comfort her, his eyes holding the same sympathy that a cat might to a dying mouse in it's clutches. Lyra, with precise steps and quick movements, ducked under the advisors arm again and threw the bird from the window in one graceful movement.

Raspik, grabbed her arm hard and wrenched her back, but it was too late and the bird had already flown. The mock sympathy turned to anger in seconds. "You stupid bitch," the advisor declared viciously, and struck Lyra across the face. Lyra fell to the floor heavily and brought her hand to her face to find there was blood there where Raspik's ring had caught the skin.

Lyra, recognizing the danger that was before her, got quickly from the floor. The taller man began to approach her again. "A good beating might fix that," hissed the man, and Lyra looked around the room in search of a weapon. The lit candle stick that sat on the table was heavy as Lyra quickly grabbed for it as the advisor's hand came up to strike again. Lyra for a third time ducked under the gangerly arm and this time struck the head of her opponent hard with the base of the ornament. Raspik went down like a sack of something unsavory and Lyra stood atop the unconscious man panting.

She could see the advisor was still alive and thus it would only be a matter of time until he woke. With this, she decided it was time to leave the city upon the river and so stole away in the night to retrieve the bag she had hidden away with her male clothing and weapons.

Lyra changed to the more practical attire, opting for a neutral outfit rather than her guard uniform, and made her way subtly from the city. A few times she bribed the guards to let her though the gates so late at night and eventually she had left the city limits and directed her march north-west. As she left the city she heard the bells of the watch tower being rung; most likely Raspik had been found. No one would think the random man leaving Urbem in the early hours of the morning had any connection to the young maid that had attacked the King's advisor; they were different people.

When the sun had risen in the sky Lyra located an inn who had a few old mares and worn saddles for sale. Lyra bought the horse and a few days worth of food with the rest of the money Fili had given her and set out towards the abandoned mill on the road.

!

 **I hope Kili's realization was entertaining for you! But there is definitely more revelations to come. Has he told anyone?! Is the information Lyra's gathered useful?! I'd just like to say how appreciative I am of everyone who has read the story and especially those who have left a review! I'm so happy you're enjoying it! Anywho, until next time my lovely readers.**


	12. Lavender Soap

**Chapter Twelve – Lavender Soap**

!

 _"Odors have a power of persuasion stronger than that of words, appearances, emotions, or will. The persuasive power of an odor cannot be fended off, it enters into us like breath into our lungs, it fills us up, imbues us totally. There is no remedy for it."_

 _― Patrick Süskind, Perfume: The Story of a Murderer_

!

Lyra had been at the mill for over a day when she saw the approach of four pony's in the distance, meandering at a slow pace towards her hiding spot. As their figures got larger she recognized them as dwarfs that wore the crest and colours of Erebor upon their breast. Lyra was spotted by one of the party as she stepped out into view and spired by the sight of her he galloped on in front of the rest.

"Luke!" shouted a jovial voice Lyra recognized as Thomas'.

"Thomas!" Lyra shouted back, very glad to have been saved by her friend. The half-dwarf dismounted and the two friends joined arms in the typical dwarven fashion without hesitation. "It is so good to see a friendly face," Lyra huffed, unexpected emotion building up within her chest.

"It is good to see you are safe," Thomas gasped, slightly out of breath from the gallops, grasping Lyra's arm tightly. "Everyone has heard of your sacrifice to stay and gather information. It had been invaluable." The other three dwarfs rode towards Lyra's make shift campsite and she recognized one of the others of the party as Dwalin.

"Well done lad," said her commanding officer, as he dismounted and pulled the girl-soldier into a quick embrace.. "You've done your family proud."

The small group of Erebor soldiers helped Lyra pack up her meager belongings and they set off for the battle encampment half a days ride from the mill. The mood of the company was in good spirits despite the impending battle set for mere days away.. They told Lyra that they could match Urbem's five thousand men and had twice their number of cavalry due to involvement of the Dale garrison.

"Dale has marched with Erebor?" Lyra asked in astonishment.

"Aye, lad," Dwalin confirmed. "The treaty still holds and the city would be under the same amount of threat were Urbem to march upon us."

Soon enough the party made it to where the army had decided to stop and Lyra was struck by the sheer number of soldiers present. Half men and half dwarfs; the sight caused a well of hope and the dread that had been accumulating in her chest at the approaching battle eased somewhat.

They were allowed though without hesitation and followed a sort of path to which most of the soldiers had lined their tents along. Lyra noticed a few of the dwarfs whom she recognized gave her a wave of acknowledgment and some that she didn't also gave a type of bow or nod. Soon, they were upon the main pavilion where the royal tents were erected.

They drew their horses up to the center and dismounted as a group. As her boot touch the ground of the encampment, Lyra remembered very vividly the last conversation she'd had with Kili before the princes had been forced to steal away into the night to escape the warning city. From Thomas' reception of her she knew Kili had not made her true identity common knowledge; but that did not mean he hadn't told the king, or forgiven her for her lies.

Her fears were all for naught. Having heard the commotion outside, Kili had stepped from his own tent and, upon seeing the company had returned from the mill, stormed forward with purpose.

Lyra noticed the prince marching towards her and steeled herself inwardly, trying not to show her trepidation. So when the young prince flung his arms around Lyra and hugged her tightly in relief, Lyra felt herself very confused.

"I am so glad you've returned safely," Kili told Lyra, leaning back and looking at her intently with searching eyes. "Come, Thorin wishes to speak with you first but then you must sit with Fili and I and explain all."

Lyra was surprised and relieved that the princes anger had dissipated and gave him a small, hesitant smile as she was beckoned into the large pavilion in the center of the square. As she stepped inside, Lyra realized this was the kings tent. In the front compartment there was a large table with a map of the local terrain spread out across its width. A number of seats were surrounding the table filled with commanders of both dwarf and men who were deemed important enough to attend to the kings war council. At the head of the table stood King Thorin and Prince Fili with the King of Dale and his heir, Prince Bain, deep in conversation.

When Lyra entered the marquee the conversation was halted and all those present looked to her questionably. It struck her how very odd it was that a room of war heroes and four weather royals had all their attention on her, where a year ago they would not have looked her way for any reason at all.

"Sires," Lyra spoke respectfully, bowing to those present. Fili was the first to react, moving from the table and approaching her in much the same way as his brother had.

"It is good to see you," the prince told Lyra, grabbing her arm tightly with both hands. He then said a little quieter, so no one but Kili, who stood next to her, would be able hear. "Though it would have been nice to have known a few details before I agreed to your idea." Kili snorted and Lyra had the sense to looked guilty for her deceptions.

"Luke Fraser, I would presume?" A deep, rumbling voice asked. The King of Dale was a handsome man, almost grey in his hair but tall and well built, with soft eyes and thin lips that spoke of many tough years of life. His son was similar in looks, but with honeyed hair and a much less worn complexion. "It seems we have a great deal to be thankful for, and your information has been invaluable. I am very proud to say you are a citizen on Dale." The King nodded his head in acknowledgement to Lyra who merely bowed back respectfully, feeling words would be insufficient.

"Indeed," King Throin grumbled. "Please, join us we have much to discuss."

The three princes, two kings and a handful of advisors sat that evening and listened to Lyra recount what she had learnt as her time as a servant. All the information of note worth had already been transferred via letter but there were things she explained which some of the advisors picked up on that Lyra hadn't thought important before.

"They were wearing green and yellow?" asked Balin, "that is surely house Clemently, who have been known to lend their swords to the highest bidder. They will surely turn tail at the first sign of loss."

"And they are surely to have more archers if even smiths are making arrows," said a human advisor.

The night wore on tediously and eventually the king called the council to an end. The battle strategy was already in place, with small kinks needing working out, they just needed to know when and where.

"Master Fraser," Thorin called before she could leave the tent. "A word."

The rest of the council departed until it was the two of them seated at the table. Throin was looking intensely at Lyra and she thought that maybe Kili had also told his uncle; this was not the case however.

"I wanted to thank you personally for the great personal risk you took," spoke the King, his elbows on the table in front and hands positioned with his fingers touching tip to tip. The king paused. "It seems you have become a great asset to Erebor and so I would like to offer you a permanent position within the mountain."

The King continued to look at Lyra, his eyes searching for something in her countenance. Lyra licked her lips, suddenly finding her mouth very dry.

"Thank you sire, this is an honor," Lyra said, measuring her words carefully. "May I give you the answer when the battle is won?"

"Of course, think on it," acknowledged the King, nodding before getting to his feet. "Good night, Master Fraser."

Lyra had no time to compose herself or think as she found Fili and Kili standing outside the door to the tent as she exited. "Come, we should talk," Kili said, and motioned for Lyra to follow them to the tent Kili had emerged from earlier that day. Inside, Lyra found a small table, a large bed and a dresser with a mirror on top it. Before the mirror was a large bowl with steaming water within and Lyra wished she could use it to scrub the grim of the day from her face.

As if reading her thoughts Kili threw a towel in her direction and motioned to the basin. "You should clean your face, you look like you fell in horse dung," the prince told her with amusement. Lyra smiled slightly and walked to the mirror, and saw that her face really did have streaks of mud across it.

She washed quickly, using the lavender soap that sat on the side of the bowl, and gave her hair a comb through with her fingers. It had reached a length where she could just tuck it slightly behind the ear and she knew she would have to cut it again soon. Before Lyra turned back to the princes she noticed a large purplish yellow stain across her left cheek, which had before been hidden by the mud, and it was paired with an ugly long gash running from the middle of her cheek to the edge of her mouth. The bruise would fade and the cut would heel, but she did look quite the worse for ware after being struck by the kings advisor.

Kili and Fili noticed the bruise instantly. "What happened there?" asked Fili, frowning as he took a sip from a glass of wine that had magically appeared while she'd had her back turned.

"The Kings advisor; the tall, leering man," Lyra said as way of explanation. Kili handed her a glass of red wine as she took the last seat at the table. The princes looked to Lyra with large, beseeching eyes wanting more of an explanation and Lyra found herself, for the second time that evening, explaining her adventures in Urbem.

This time, however, she spared no details. When she was done the princes looked at her with awe and horror.

"That sounds horrible," Kili told her, leaning forward in his chair. "And he definitely wasn't dead?"

"I don't think so, and I hope not," Lyra admitted with a shrug. "I've never killed anyone before."

"But, I mean, he probably would have, you know, against your will," Kili whispered, seemingly trying to get Lyra to understand the situation.

Lyra rolled her eyes, feeing uncomfortable. "Yes, Kili, I know."

Fili had remained eerily silent through the entire explanation, leaving the questions and the comments for Kili to fulfill. But at the mention of violence towards her and Lyra's unlikely escape something seemed to tip in his self composure.

"And the blame of your rape and murder would have fallen upon myself," Fili spoke aggressively, sudden anger flaring in the prince. Fili slammed the glass he was holding down on the table and stood up. He seemed indecisive of what to do next and simply opted to walked to the edge of the tent and stand near the door.

Lyra was surprised by Fili's reaction and a tight feeling began to form in her chest as a response.

Kili looked at his brother in concern, clearly knowing the trouble he fought with. He looked to Lyra and explained. "What you have to understand is that in our race females are considered somewhat scared; there being so few of them. They are fierce and have been known to join the garrison, sure, but only in times of great need. What Fili allowed you to do; deep in the heart of the enemy unprotected like that was something that simply is not done."

"And I would not have, had I known," Fili told her, huffing angrily. "When I told Kili you were staying behind, and the look of horror he gave me, I knew something was very wrong. But it was to late to turn back, even had I understood at the time."

"And did my staying behind not help?" Lyra asked, understanding their plight but frustrated by it all the same.

"That is not the point," the blond prince told her, frowning intensely in her direction.

"What you must understand is that I went into this from the beginning, from when I joined the garrison, knowing what might befall me," she explained gently, "even if the result is my own execution, then that is the fate I chose. My lies are not your burden, Fili."

It was the princes turn to look at Lyra with surprise. "What do you mean execution?" Kili said seriously.

Lyra paused, not sure how to phrase the explanation tactfully. "Well, it has been known to be the punishment for a female pretending to be a male and entering the army. I am hardly the first person to have this idea."

Fili shook his head, taking step towards the table; his curiosity at Lyra's words distracting him from his discontent. "Not in Erebor."

"But I am not a soldier of Erebor, not technically," Lyra pointed out.

"But you can be, Uncle and I discussed it earlier." Fili sat back down at the table, leaning forward and unconsiously mirroring his brother.

"Yes, the King offered me a permanent position." Lyra spoke in slow, deliberate words.

"Great, so there's nothing to worry about," Kili sat back, "Right?"

"Well, I haven't accepted," Lyra told them, looking between the princes cautiously, both of which were giving her expressions as if she had taken all her clothes off and declared herself an elf.

"Why not?" Kili exclaimed, arms in the air.

"Because I was planning on leaving when this mission was done," Lyra told them with a thin smile. She did not want to leave but she knew she must; especially since the princes had found out.

The room fell silent at Lyra's words as the young dwarfs stared at her with open mouths, not really knowing or having anything to say to this.

"But…" Kili began, cutting himself off midsentent as if he didn't know how to finish. The room was silent.

"If I make it through the battle, then it's the most sensible course of action," Lyra muttered as she took a large breath followed by an even larger gulp of wine.

"What do you mean 'make it through'?" Fili said with a sharp look, "You're not fighting."

"It would look very odd if I didn't," Lyra argued weakly. She didn't really want to fight at all. She may be somewhat good with a bow and fair enough with a sword, but the thought of facing death in battle made her head swim and stomach turn such as it hadn't since she'd first signed up to the garrison of dale.

"And how would my conscious be if you died in action?" the blond haired prince contended.

"I told you, that is not your responsibility." Lyra's irritation was growing by the moment.

"But don't you see, now that we know, how in good conscious could we let you fight?" Kili joined in, and with two against one Lyra left like a cornered mouse.

"I'm sorry but it's not up to you," she said standing abruptly. "Now if you excuse me, I have not had a good sleep in weeks, and this may be my last opportunity for a while." Lyra left the two princes looking after her gravely. She felt resolute in her decision; but that didn't mean she wasn't terrified by it.

!

The army was to march in a day. Scouts were sent ahead and it was noted that an army of equal size was marching from Urbem and would be upon them in two days.

Lyra was instructed that her skills would be best suit back in the archery battalion where she was originally placed in the Dale regiments. Thus she located Captain Anders with excitement.

"Luke Fraser!" announced her captain, pulling him into a half hug. "I've heard of all your hard work, good lad." The Captain patted Lyra on the back with force, causing the young girl to stumble forward somewhat. "We'll be glad to have you back among us I should think."

Lyra spent the day from here practicing with her old bow on a make shift range. Drills were run for the entire archery battalion, some five hundred strong, who were to remain to the back of the artillery and fire on the enemy.

"We may have to fight with swords and spears too; so make sure you're well equipped!" Captain Anders had announced to his men as the day drew to a close. Lyra left the training ground to find a bed soon after, knowing she would need all the sleep she could get before the early morning march towards the battle field.

Before she could do that, however, she came across Prince Kili. He was storming through the rows of tents set out for the Dale soldiers; looking left and right agitatinginly and clearly looking for something. Many of the men eyed up the dwarf prince with apprehension; the racial divide between dwarfs and men still very much present and evident. If Kili noticed, he paid it no mind.

"There you are!" he said in an agitated voice as he spotted Lyra walking his way. "I've been looking for you everywhere." The prince was followed by El and Fel, who gave Lyra a tiresome look to prove that they had indeed been looking everywhere.

"Come and share a drink with Fili and I," Kili instructed rather than asked Lyra as he grabbed her arm impatiently and dragged her along. Lyra's meager protests about sleep were ignored.

"Tomorrow will be the battle and nobody knows what that could hold," Kili told her, letting go of her arm and beckoning her to follow. The sun had near disappeared from the sky as they moved through the camp, casting a red glow upon the tents. They found Fili already sitting inside the tent upon the table with three tankards of ale.

"Finally!" the blond haired prince announced. Kili sat down at the table with haste and Lyra did the same at Kili's insistence. The two dwarfs lifted their tankards up in the air, bashed them together in good faith, and the two princes then drank long and deep from their cups.

Then, as if in practiced synchronization, they dropped them empty onto the table and grasped hands tightly. Lyra watched the show in fascination, wondering why she'd been chosen to observe their strange ritual.

"A drink to clinch the nerves of battle," Kili explained. "And to help you sleep the night before." Lyra sipped on her drink much slower but smiled at the brother's sentiment, taking their invitation as acceptance that they would not make an issue of her fighting in the battle.

Fili stepped out the tent for a moment and came back with two more tankards. He sat down and began to drink his second cup much slower. "So, yesterday we got distracted by certain details, and we didn't explain that we talked to your sister," Fili began.

"My sister?" Lyra sat straighter in her chair, remembering the pledge she'd drawn from Fili before they had escaped Urbem.

"I had promised," Fili explained seriously.

!

In the early hours of the morning the horn to announce one hour until sunrise, and one hour until they marched, was heard across the camp. Kili sat up with a start, blinking away sleep and looking around the tent groggily. He stretched out his arms above his head with a click of the back; the chair he'd slept on a uncomfortable now as it had been the night before when he'd passed out from drink and exhaustion.

Kili eyed up his bed longingly, thinking of how warm and comfortable the feather mattress would be on his aching joints, but found it annoyingly taken by a soundly girl. He snorted at his thought process; when girls were usually soundly sleeping in his bed he would have very different thoughts, but Lyra was very obviously different.

Lyra; the idea was still something Kili struggled to get his head around. Luke had initially been a very serious boy, unsure of himself but determined to do a good job. Kili had wanted to show his appreciation for saving Fili and thought a place amongst the royal guard would be sufficient thanks. It wasn't long until Kili started to like Luke, finding his dry humor and unassuming manner somehow reassuring.

Luke seemed to find the idea of friendship with him hard to swallow but had warmed up to it eventually, and it was on the road of Urbem that he really started to open up and have a good time with them. His laughter was always unexpected and he enjoyed their hesitant comrade. Since becoming a prince he had found genuine friendship much harder to come by and Luke's clear uncertainty and lack of manipulation was refreshing.

Until he found out that Luke was actually Lyra. At first he'd felt betrayed having been lied to; he thought he'd misjudged this person hugely. He'd thought they were somewhat friends but the discovery meant that obviously they weren't. When he'd left her room in Urbem after finding out Lyra's secrety, his mind was ablaze with betrayal. But he had to push these thought to the back of this mind and in stead spoke to Fili and Ilithia (sweet, sweet Ilithia) about the escape and before anyone knew it all had been set into motion. Lyra hadn't been around that day, he'd demanded it, and so this gave time for Kili to clear his head.

When Fili said he would speak to Luke he did not object, not wanting to have to confront her, but when the escape plan begun and Lyra was nowhere to be seen Kili was horrified. He was insistent they go back, but Fili held firm saying this had been Luke's choice to stay and gather the information. That it would be a huge help and Fili had faith in him. Of course Kili couldn't give his brother a good reason why they should return for her, because he didn't want to betray that Luke was a Her.

He didn't know if it was a misplaced secret, but he partly understood the consequences for her were she to be found out. Thus, for a tentative friendship he had shared with his guard, he kept her secret.

Kili thought back with amusement at his and Fili's visit to Lyra's family home. They had gone straight to Erebor when they had returned to inform their uncle of Urbem's intentions, of Luke's position of intelligence within the city and of the need to raise an army to march upon the traitorous town.

The following day, after hours of councils and preparation, the two brothers had been sent down to Dale to ask for the assistance of the Dale garrison in the attack. Fili relayed the message dutifully and the King of Dale accepted the invitation to take council with Thorin within the mountain and would begin to call his army to arms.

Fili, rather to the surprise of those present, insisted on running some errands in Dale and he would travel to the mountain that evening. Kili, knowing the promise he'd made to Lyra, insisted on accompanying him. Thus together, they traveled through Dale and to the cottage on the edge of the forest.

"How do you know where it is?" Kili asked curiously as they rode up an over grown road which barely seemed traveled apart from live stock and the odd farmer.

"Luke pointed it out on the way here," Fili muttered, "at the end of the road." Eventually they came upon the small abode, set on an acre of grass land. The cottage had over grown greenery around the edges, and to the back there was a small wooded area. Kili could heard laughter of children from behind the house as they played happily in the long grass.

Fili instructed their guards to remain at the edge of the land, knowing this was somewhat of a delicate conversation and not wanting to over run Luke's sister with the presence of multiple dwarfs. They dismounted and moved to the door to knock.

There was a rustling from inside and the door was unlocked cautiously. From behind the wood a pretty face appeared, looking upon the two dwarves on her doorstep with suspicion. "Can I help you?" she asked as she saw no threat and opened the door wider. Kili noted a baby cradled to her chest in a sling sleeping soundly against it's mother.

"Fili," began his brother.

"And Kili," he continued.

"At your service," they finished together, bowing to the lady before them.

"You're the royal princes," Lyra's sister, Freya Kili suddenly remembered, said dumbly, looking at them with wide eyes, and giving a clumsy curtsy. "Please… erm, come in." She seemed hesitant to invite them into her home but manors she's honed for many years out weighed her caution.

They entered the cottage and looked around curiously. "Please, sit. Can I offer you a drink?" Freya asked, seemingly unsure of herself.

"No, thank you. We will not take up too much of your time," Fili replied politely, taking a seat in a rickardy chair at an old, oak table. Kili opted to stand, preferring to look around the room curiously instead. The first thing he noted was how homely it was; small and sparse, but clearly lived in and loved. There seemed to be only one room where the entire family lived, cooked and slept. Kili knew that many people lived like this but it unsettled him to know that Lyra was amongst those so poverty stricken.

"What's happened, is… Luke well?" Freya asked worriedly and Kili detected the pause at Lyra's name.

"Your brother is quiet fine, Mistress Fraser," Fili told her, leaning forward on the table. "But he has embarked on a secret mission for Erebor."

"Oh, my… secret?" asked Lyra's sister asked. "Well, is he safe?"

"I can't say that he is," Fili told her, "But I trust in his ability."

"Well, I guess that's that then," Freya said, "I mean, he wouldn't agree to something if he didn't think he could do it I suppose." Kili noticed Freya's features held the same thinness Lyra's did. It was not unattractive, but it was distinctive. Her mannerisms also seemed to mirror her sisters. Fili, deciding that he had done his promised duty, began to make his excuses and bid Freya a good day, when all of a sudden the sound of approaching screeches of little children could be heard from the back.

"Aunty Lyra! Aunty Lyra!" they called, having seen the dwarfs at the front of the house waiting for Kili and Fili and assuming it was their aunt. A boy of maybe six stormed into the kitchen, grinning wildly, when he stopped short. Behind him followed a younger girl of maybe four; both had the rosy cheek and light hair that most children do.

"You're not aunty Lyra," the boy announced, looking at Fili accusingly.

"No, we're not," Kili told them, answering quickly for his brother. "Don't you think we should go Fili, don't want to disturb them." Kili tried to cox his brother from the house, but his chivalrous brother decided it was also his duty to tell the children

"We're here about your Uncle Luke," he told the children kindly. "He'll be away for sometime."

"We don't have an uncle Luke," the little girl said, confused and walking toward Fili confidently. "You have a funny beard on your mouth." The little girl reached up to touch the edge of his moustache which had a green bead on one end.

"You know, uncle Luke," their mother told them. "The soldier."

"But isn't Aunty Lyra a soldier?" whispered the young boy, moving to stand next to his mother, holding her hand.

Fili was watching the exchange with confusion, not really comprehending what was going on. Kili was just leaning against the window, looking at the wreck that was happening before him with morbid fascination. Eventually, Kili knew someone would have to explain or Fili would ungracefully pull the truth from the small family.

Thus he leant forward and whispered very quietly in his ear. "Luke is Lyra. Luke is a girl."

Silence descended upon the room. Fili's mouth was opening and closing like a fish. "I think I will take that drink," Fili told Freya, his face white as a sheet as the little girl of barely four climbed up onto his lap and began to pull at his beard.

Kili laughed to himself silently, remembering Fili's anger at him afterwards for not warning him about Lyra before hand. All and any anger Kili had held toward Lyra had disappeared after that visit. He understood she had done what she did for nothing other than duty and love. The family needed a wage that only a male could achieve; and so Lyra had fulfilled that role.

Kili looked over at the sleeping girl and wondered how he'd never seen it. She was not so much a gentle soul but had a softness to her like most women do, and she even had a rather pretty face and slight curves if you knew they were there. As her hair grew longer the girl in her shined though much more strongly and her mannerisms and laugh just spoke of femininity. He understood how she had gotten away with it, but it seemed to be once you'd see it you couldn't unsee it.

Kili thought it best to wake her soon. The previous night they had told Lyra of her sister and how her nephew had inadvertently revealed her secret to which Lyra had laughed heartily and smiled brightly. After that they had regaled her with tales of their adventures, the reclaim of Erebor and their time with the elves. Kili noticed that Lyra seemed much more relaxed with them; more herself, and Kili found he liked Lyra even more than he'd liked Luke.

They had left to get more ale, their outside supply having disappeared, and when they returned they found her deeply sleeping upon the chair. Kili did not have the heart to wake her and instead moved her to the bed; content to have the floor that evening.

Her decision to fight did not sit well with either of the brothers; Fili feeling especially responsible for her fate. They had no problem with _him_ fighting as a skinny boy, but as a _woman_ that was a different story. But she was right; it wasn't their decision, and they could not dishonor her by forcing her not to fight.

Kili stood with this thought and began to dress for battle.

!

 **Thank you for being patient with me! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. The reunion was very fun to write and now that Fili knows the secret it feels more fun somehow! Let me know what you think. Until next time my lovely readers!**


	13. A Quip of the Lip

_**Chapter Thirteen –**_ _ **A Quip of the Lip**_

!

" _A great battle is a terrible thing," the old knight said, "but in the midst of blood and carnage, there is sometimes also beauty, beauty that could break your heart." ― George R.R. Martin, A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms_

!

The march to the battle ground would be half a day's journey for the entire army to travel. As such the superiors decided not to dismantle the camp but to keep it standing for the return journey, as it would benefit any wounded and act as a retreat point if things were to turn south.

Lyra said her goodbyes to Kili that morning with emotion. Kili managed to drag out a promise from her to buy him a drink when they were back in Erebor, then they clasped hands and wished each other the best of luck. Lyra prepared herself then like she had every other morning; with a sword on her side, a spear in her hand and her bow and arrows upon her back. She then saddled her horse, the one she'd bought from the innkeeper on her way from Urbem, and mounted it to ride towards Captain Anders and join the archers for the march.

Before she had time to direct her horse in the right direction, a dwarf she didn't recognize sat upon an old pony approached her. "Sir, you have been asked to ride with the king under the mountain," he spoke clearly and plainly, his voice muffled somewhat by his large beard. He then turned upon the spot and began to trot slowly in the direction from which he came; not even turning to check if Lyra was following.

She was, of course. No one denied King Thorin an audience.

She was soon in the middle of the army, protected by soldiers on all fronts. In the centre she could see the King riding alongside his advisors and the princes. Lyra rode up to the side of their procession and found herself next to Kili.

"I thought I said goodbye to you," Kili quipped, looking to the side in surprise at her presence. "Well, now I'll have to say goodbye to you again! This is most unprecedented." The dark hair prince shook his head in dismay.

"Well I didn't!" Fili announced from horseback on the other side of his brother. Fili then leaned over Kili, much to the protest of the younger prince, and offered Lyra his hand. She laughed aloud at the princes antic and leaned over as well to grasp Prince Fili's hand.

"Fair thee well, Master Fraser," Fili told her in mock seriousness.

"Goodbye, Prince Fili," she replied, not quite managing to keep the smile from her face.

"Yes, yes, we've all said goodbye now," Kili told them breaking apart the handshake with a push. Lyra leaned back in her saddle smilingly while the two princes continued to banter between themselves.

When a voice spoke unexpectedly from her other side, it took most of her composure to not jolt violently in surprise.

"You have become remarkably good friends with my nephews," the king under the mountain said, pulling his horse alongside Lyra and looking upon her with interest. Most of his expressions towards her were that of surprise or curiosity, Lyra remarked to herself, was she particularly interesting?

"It is hard not to enjoy their good humor," Lyra replied, finding herself sitting taller in her saddle as she rode along with the king. Lyra looked to the still bickering brothers. "Or for them to enjoy it, it would seem."

A quip of the lip and a rumble from the back of Thorin's throat indicated, much to Lyra' fascination, a type of laugh. Lyra gave the king a hesitant smile at this and silence fell between the unlikely pair. Lyra noticed the king was dressed in beautiful plated armor, covering his chest, thighs and upper arms. It looked heavy but the king didn't seem to be bothered by the weight.

Lyra took a breath. "Sire, why did you ask me to ride with you?" she sounded somewhat impatient and knew she probably should not have asked the question, but with her nerves strung so high with the forthcoming battle, she could not hold herself in check.

"Am I keeping you?" Thorin asked in a dead tone.

"I am curious," she replied, bristling a little at his unapproachable demeanor. "Not everyday are you asked to ride with the king."

Thorin was silent a moment before he shifted in his saddle as if waking from a deep thought. "I wanted to ask your opinion on Urbem," he told her thoughtfully.

"Why do you want to know what I think?" she questioned before she could stop herself. She didn't know when it had become a habit to question royalty's decision.

"Despite all the pontificating of mine and Bards advisors when you arrived, you did not voice your thoughts. You were there, and I would hear them." Thorin was once again staring at Lyra intensely and she found herself struggling to pull together her thoughts.

"Well… I suppose I think this battle is unavoidable," she began hesitantly. The King gave no indication of listening to her, looking out at the road ahead in deep thought. This gave her courage. "Prince Edvard has been manipulated; he was going to kidnap the princes on the advice of a mysterious advisor and now he is at war because he believes Urbem will benefit from it. It is a foolish endeavor. So who _would_ benefit from strife between Urbem and Dale? Possibly someone who didn't want an alliance? Or who didn't wish to see Prince Kili wed to the princess?" Lyra stopped herself, surprised that her thought came together so eloquently and even somewhat having merit.

Thorin nodded, seemingly having come to the same conclusion. "And what of after the battle?" he asked, looking ahead still.

"Well… hopefully Prince Edvard dies in battle and the king is crowned again, Kili and Ilithia are married and an unconditional trade deal between Erebor and Dale is created." Lyra summed up the intricacies of the complex politics in a few words, not feeling any more necessary.

Lyra heard the deep rumble of a laugh of the Kings again, and looked at him to see amusement in his eyes and directed towards her. His look was intense even when his mood was light, Lyra thought, but nonetheless found she did not want to look away.

"That would be ideal," he said, breaking eye contact to look forward once more. They fell into a comfortable silence as they rode together towards the battle.

It was near midday when they heard to sound of horns upon the air and a Dale scout could be seen breaking the trees to the east and riding toward the army in a panic.

"My King," he called to Bard, who sat astride his horse not far from Lyra. The scout approached the leading party and the information was relayed between breaths. "They are to be upon us in moments. It is an ambush."

At the words of ambush, a signal was sent along the line to the commanders and suddenly the army was in a frenzy of movement. Lines were being formed with practiced ease; order forming from chaos. From upon her horse Lyra could almost see her regiment of archers to the back, but she knew there was no time to get there; an impenetrable wall of soldiers standing between her and her station.

Lyra was aimless, not knowing where to stand. She saw Kili stationed with other mounted dwarf archers and so moved her steed alongside the prince and notched an arrow on her bow. The prince looked to her with concern, knowing she should not be so close to the front, but also knowing it was too late.

Urbem was not supposed to be upon the army for another league, and yet from the east and west emerged two battalions which had been lying in wait in the neighboring valleys and now where charging upon the army of Dwarves and men.

"Hold the line," shouted the King of Dale.

Lyra draw back her arrow on Kili's command, thankfully to be fighting to the east and looking away from the sun. There was a sudden beat of silence as the position was held, the time for a single deep calming breath. The roars of the apposing army grew louder, and yet a stillness that Lyra felt around her was almost unnatural

"Archers, fire!" Kili shouted, and Lyra let lose an arrow. It was as if a frenzy of energy had been released into her body at Kili's words. She had been trained to change arrows as fast as possible, but her hands were shaking so hard she seemed to be struggling to attach them to her bow. She took a breath, placed the arrow into its position, and fired again. She did not look to see where her arrows fell; she just fired endlessly.

Lyra felt somewhat disconnected from what was going on and everything started to move as if slowing down. It seemed as if an age had passed when finally, the soldiers broke against the front of the Erebor army, but before any ground could be made a wall of men rushed forward to replace those that had fallen and to double up those that hadn't.

Blood was rushing in Lyra's ears. She heard Kili shout to fire, she heard King Thorin's shout to hold ground. She saw the enemy coming towards her and knew she could either freeze and be struck down or she could do something; anything. Both would likely end in her death, but she was not someone who would die quietly or easily.

With a bloodthirsty battle cry to mirror those around her she grabbed for her spear and, on her mounted steed, who had remained amazingly calm, she thrust the point into the neck of an Urbem soldier. There was a blur after that; she didn't know what she was doing or how many she'd killed. Most of the men seemed surprisingly untrained; probably farmers and shopkeepers urged to fight a war.

She cut them down mercilessly and unthinkingly; she couldn't think. Her spear was ripped from her hand when she encountered a hard faced man, clearly not new to the trials of war. She reached for the sword at her side but found her hands soaked in blood and it slipped from her grip as she tried to remove it from the scabbard.

 _This is it,_ she thought as the man raised his sword. Yet, in an act of some fate, a stray horse who had been spooked by the battle galloped violently into the hardened man, knocking him to the floor and stamping on his back as it scrambled to find a way out from the madness around. Lyra quickly wiped her hand on her tunic, pushing from her mind the sad fate of the man trampled to death by a war horse without thought or ceremony. She moved her bow from her back, knowing this was her only choice, and began to fire the enemy around her.

"Thorin!" shouted a voice Lyra recognized. Turning to the sound she saw that the King under the Mountain had fallen from his mount and was being crushed by the black stallion. Above him stood a soldier, poised to strike and end Thorin's life. Lyra didn't hesitate or think, she just raised her bow and shot the man between the eyes. His eyes rolled into his head and he fell on his face besides the dwarf king.

Lyra directed her horse toward Thorin and Fili, who had been fighting mere feet away, jumped from his mare and moved to his uncle with speed. Lyra did not dare dismount but instead stood guard over the uncle and nephew.

"My leg," grunted the king. Fili pulled the king out from under the horse and Lyra noticed the odd angle his leg was twisted at.

"We must get you away from here." Fili looked around wildly for an escape, seemingly only noticing Lyra in that moment. "You must take him," he told her with wild, beseeching eyes. She nodded quickly and Fili, in one swift movement that spoke of his immense strength, lifted his uncle onto the back of Lyra's horse. The king grunted in pain as he grabbed the saddle; from his close proximity Lyra could hear his quick, labored breaths. Without announcement Fili hit Lyra's horse hard on the hind and the mare began to gallop through the battle.

Thorin, in his pained state, pulled the bloody sword from Lyra's scabbard and began to swing it at any enemy that tried to prevent their escape. It was another blur of quick motion, with bodies throwing themselves beneath their path and cries of fury from the clash of enemy's sword. It seemed like an eternity had passed when they eventually reached the outskirt of the battle, but still Lyra continued to move forward and away from the war. The king was vulnerable and she was no match against multiple armed opponents; they should hide. Lyra felt a cold drop hit her left cheek and glanced up to the sky despondently; it seemed as if at some point during the battle it had started to rain. There were a few trees to take cover under but none were good hiding places, so all they could do was keep moving forward and away from danger. Fortunately, it wasn't long until Lyra spotted an old mill across the field and analyzing it as a defensible position with shelter, she began to steer the house in that direction.

Lyra told Thorin of her plan and he nodded his agreement lightly. She could feel Thorin's cold hand gripping tightly onto her shoulder as he steadied himself against the jagged motion of the horses trot; each step probably causing agonizing pain to his broken leg. When they reach the abandoned building Lyra dismounted quickly, tied the horse to a wooden post in the shelter of the mill, and quickly ran inside quickly to scout out for threats. The king helped himself down from the mare with grunts of pain, balancing on one leg inelegantly. Lyra emerged with a nod, having found nothing but broken furniture and dust within, and moved to the king's side to assist him up the stone steps of the mill.

Lyra put the kings arm around her neck and together they crossed the threshold of their shelter and finally out of the rain. Lyra couldn't help but notice, as the dwarf king leaned heavily on her, that he smelled of sweat and leather, but strangely also of a sweeter sent she did not recognize. As gently as one could move a fully armored dwarf, Lyra helped seat the King on the floor so his back could lean against the mortar wall that sat opposite the only entrance in or out.

Lyra closed the doors and the shutters of the windows firmly around the circular room, leaving one slightly opened so she could watch for any approaching threats.

"Will the battle take long?" Lyra asked with concern, noticing how heavy the rain had begun to fall.

"We were winning," Thorin spoke through gritted teeth, "but that does not tell us much." Lyra looked to the king and noticed his great pain, but unsure of what she could do to alleviate it. She let her eyes wonder over the king in concern and noticed that there was a rip in his leather upon his shoulder. On closer inspection she realized a sword or arrow must have pierced the area where his plates of armor met.

She moved towards to injured king and crouched before him. "We must bind your leg," she told him gently, ignoring for now the shoulder wound that the King obviously did not wish to mention. Thorin nodded his consent, knowing how vulnerable he was without the strength to hold himself up.

Lyra looked around the mill for something wooden to bind to the king's leg. She knew it would be painful but to leave it without support could do more damage. It wasn't long until she located the leg of a broken chair that was just short of length of a dwarf's leg. It crossed her mind in that moment that she sometimes forgot how short dwarfs really were, as there overbearing presence tended to make one forget their stature.

Lyra removed her belt and asked the king to do the same. He struggled with it, having to sit straighter to release the clasp and causing a resultant spasm up his leg. Lyra moved to assist him once again.

"Have you done this before?" he asked her, huffing through the pain.

"No," she told him lightly, "have you, sire?" she asked absently, laying the wood next to his leg on the floor and the belts beside it.

"Thorin," he said, concentrating on her to distract from the pain, "you most likely saved my life upon the field and now to tend to my wounds like a babe. I think we are past titles." Knowing he was distracted Lyra lifted the kings leg and slid the wood and the belts beneath it. Thorin grunt and grit his teeth, but it was a testament to his strength of will that he did not cry out.

"Of course, Thorin," Lyra told him eyes laughing slightly at the dry look he gave her when the pain had abated. Lyra tied the belts above and bellow the injured knee. "So, have you done this before?" she repeated.

Thorin observed her as she worked, wincing as she pulled the belts tight. "I have," he said. "Shortly after Erebor was reclaim."

"What happened?" she asked him, making subtle adjustments to his leg.

"We were on a diplomatic mission west and were set upon by orcs," Thorin told her, resting his head against the stone wall behind him. Lyra sat back on her knee, thinking she had done all she could do the leg, and listened to the king. "Dwalin was injured in the battle; he was caught in the face with a spiked mallet and, much like me, his horse fell upon him. I did my best for him and he was brought back to Erebor. And yet, he has never healed from the ordeal."

"Yours looks much less dire some than that," Lyra reassured him honestly. Having moved it to more of a normal angle now she could not see any protruding bones from the skin. That did not mean there was less damage, but she hoped at least. There was a pause in the conversation as Lyra watched the king. He had his eyes closed and his hair stuck upon his forehead, matted with others blood and his own sweat.

Still he is handsome, Lyra thought suddenly and unexpectedly. She blinked in surprise at the boldness of her thoughts and so to distract herself from these unnerving ideas she observed his other injuries.

"Your shoulder also needs tending to." Lyra moved her arm to touch the area that had been cut, but a hand reached up to prevent her.

"It is fine," he told her seriously. Lyra saw the congealed blood and dirt and looked to Thorin dubiously. Through his pain Lyra saw that her reaction amused him.

"I think we shall eventually have to move from this place," Lyra told him gently, not removing her hand from it's place hovering above is shoulder. "If you are in a fevered state, that will make it all the more difficult."

The king studied her for a moment before nodding his agreement and allowing her to tend to him. She helped him remove the arm plates and, using his knife, cut away the ripped material that clung to his arm. The slash was not as deep as it appeared; it had bled a lot but the leather had taken the brunt of the damage.

Lyra ripped some cloth from the white shirt she wore under the leathers and using water from the rain began to clean the cut delicately. Thorin did not flinch at the contact, opting to close his eyes in exhaustion.

"Kili has told me of your family," Thorin began, surprising Lyra, "and told me that you were in Escargoth when the dragon attacked." He did not look at her, his eyes still closed in pain.

"I was," Lyra said tentatively, unsure where the conversation might be headed but deciding to answer honestly nonetheless. "My parents perished in the fire."

"But you did not," Thorin stated, unnecessarily but as if he were trying to say something.

"Well, no," Lyra started, hesitantly, "my sister looked after me for a long time. When she married we were able move to Dale. When her husband died, it was my turn to step up where she had all those years before." Lyra was unsure why she was telling Thorin this; he had not asked for such details and yet she felt compelled to explain herself to him.

The makeshift rag was covered in blood and dirt but the wound was cleaned. She ripped more cloth from her shirt then and began to bandage the Kings shoulder tightly to stem the slow bleeding and to keep it from the elements. Lyra shivered suddenly, realizing that she was soaked through to the bone. The adrenaline she'd been running on since the battle was draining out of her and she began to feel the sores that were inflicted on her being.

"The battle will be over by now," Thorin noted, but they both knew there was no point in their moving. An injured king on horseback would not get far if they did not win the battle. Their best bet was to wait for rescue; with Fili knowing the direction Lyra had fled it shouldn't be too long. They had hardly settled for an hour.

"We could do with a stiff drink I think," Lyra muttered, perhaps to the King or perhaps just to herself. Thorin, having heard her complaint, reached into his jacket and pulled out a hipflask. Lyra looked at the king with pleasant surprise and she couldn't help the near hysterical laugh that bubbled up in her chest. "I didn't take you for a day drinker," she told him, smiling.

The King's lips quirked slightly and he unscrewed the lid, raise his glass in Lyra direction and took a long drink. He then handed it to Lyra who moved to sit next to Thorin on his none injured side and repeated his movement. It was a strong whiskey that burned as it touched the tongue and gave a kick at the back of the throat. Lyra coughed at the familiar taste.

"This is the Sailors Bath; that they make in Dale," Lyra said with surprise, "this is the stuff common folk drink. Surely you have access to the best drink there is?" she asked him, handing the drink back.

"All those years in the wilderness I have grown accustomed to many things commoners do, say and drink," Thorin said humbly. His words struck a cord in Lyra; she found the King fascinating and not at all how she'd expected he'd be. The last few times they'd interacted she had been too shocked to realize, his presence being very intimidating. But sitting in an abandoned mill, injured from battle and sharing strong whiskey made him somewhat less so.

"Have you made a decision on the offer I made you?" Thorin asked her as he took another sip from the flask.

"I haven't," she told him, looking down with a frown. He did not push for an explanation but, again, Lyra wanted to explain. "But my thoughts are mostly angled to return back home."

"Do you not enjoy your work?" he asked with blank interest.

"I do, it's the best work I've ever had," she told him with a reluctant smile. "But my family needs me and it is a dangerous job. I do not know what would happen to them if I were to die." Lyra gave a half shrug.

They were silent for a moment, both lost in their own thought, but were broken out of the peace when Lyra's horse gave a panicked neighing noise from outside. The King and soldier were instantly on edge, knowing it could be anything from help to the enemy and other unpleasant and dangerous things. Lyra crept to her feet slowly, not wishing to make a disturbance on the wood, and peered out from the slightly open window.

First she noted that it had stopped raining, but this thought was pushed far from her mind when she saw the situation below. She felt the blood draining from her face and her heart began to beat as panic threatened to consume her. "Orcs," she whispered in a terror, not daring to move her eyes from the disgusting sight before her.

A band of six orcs approached the tower like cockroaches approaching a fallen loaf of bread. They were most likely drawn to the sound of battle and were looking for easy snacks, or they even could have followed the army knowing that there would be ripe pickings once the fighting had stopped. Such was the way of orcs.

They were ugly creatures with grey, slimy skin and a short, hunchbacked demeanor. They wore brown rags and animal furs, laden with long weapons. They were moving past the mill when they noticed the horse and, as if of a hive mind, began to move towards to tower quickly.

"They're coming this way," she told Thorin, who tried to move to stand but fell back down as a look of deep pain flashed upon his face. "I will shoot them," Lyra said with determination. She did not turn to see the King's reaction. She had brought her bow and arrowed inside with them, knowing it unwise to leave them unattended. She reached for them and nocked an arrow. Without thinking too much or second guessing herself, she opened the window a touch more and positioned the arrow, carefully aiming at the closest orc, and without any ceremony released. He was shot in the stomach, a fatal blow, but there were five more that needed her attention.

Lyra took a step back and reach down to the floor to search for another arrow. In her panicked hasted she knocked over her quiver an it fell to the floor with a load thud; the arrows scattered about in disarray. She looked down, grabbed the nearest, and pulled her bow taught again. The next orc she shot was the one shouting and pointing in Lyra's direction. This time she got the creature in the eye socket, and hit fell to the floor in a heap of bones.

Four more left. Again, she nocked, drew and shot the arrow. It missed, but she tried again and again and did this over and over until there were two left alive. One of them had been nimble and managed to avoid all possible shots, but the other she'd managed to injure with an arrow in its thigh.

"They are in the shadow of the mill, I cannot shoot them now," she told Thorin, taking big calming breaths. She closed the shutter tight firmly and stood back staring at the locked door. It would not take long for them to knock it down.

"Hand me your bow," Thorin instructed, sitting up as much as he could. Lyra did as she was bid and also handed him the quiver with a few arrows within. "You will have to take up the sword and fight them."

Lyra swallowed, "I am not very good with a sword." There was a loud crash against the door and a strange type of tangled hissing which Lyra assumed to be the infamous black speech. She jumped to her feet, grabbing the sword, and squared off against the door.

"I will shoot one, and you must get the other," Thorin instructed, no emotion displaying upon his face. "We will not die today," he told her with so much conviction Lyra almost believed him. The door shook with the effort to knock it down and on the third try the orcs succeed and it cave inwards.

Even though there were only two left, Lyra thought they seemed to swarm into the room. Thorin did as he promised and disabled the one who already had an arrow in the leg, but his aim fell short and did not make it fatal. The orc fell to the ground in pain.

Meanwhile, Lyra swung her sword wide and cracked it against the blade of the other orc. The foul aroma of rot that etched from the breath of the beast made Lyra want to throw up, but instead she pushed back with all her strength and stabbed upwards into his chest cavity. The black blood that encompassed her arm made her retch uncontrollably.

She pulled her sword out and turned to the orc with the wounded leg that was crawling on the floor. Thorin was attempting to notch another arrow but his hand shook with the strain of the force and pain of trying to keep upright with a broken leg. The orc on the floor looked to her with malice and without thinking Lyra planted her blade through its skull.

"Watch out!" Thorin roared, but too late did she turn and parley the blow. The blade of the orc caught at her waist and drew deep down onto her hip. Pain ripped through Lyra as she plunged her sword through it's stomach, this time waiting until it's body grew limp before letting the orc drop to the floor.

Lyra stood panting, with two dead orcs at her feet and her sword held limply in her hand, and promptly emptied her stomach onto the floor. Her side ached horribly and she felt the slow trickle of blood soaking her shirt and oozing down her leg. "You are badly injured," Thorin told her, though she didn't hear him due to the rush that was pounding in her head at the sight of her own blood. She shook her head to dispel the feeling.

"King Thorin!" shouted a voice from the field. Lyra heard the call of their saviors and turned to stumble from the mill and wave at the party of approaching dwarves. They picked up their pace and soon were upon them, with many dwarves flittering about the King as Lyra stood to the side and leaned against the wall for support. She clutched her side hard, trying to stem the bleeding, but it would not stop.

"Dammit, I'm fine," shouted Thorin. "Tend to the boy!" The king seemed so angry.

Fear gripped at her heart as she pulled her hand away and it was covered in red. She closed her eyes for a moment and when she opened them again she was on the floor. A voice she recognized seemed to be calling her name, her _actual_ name. "Lyra, oh mahal, stay with us," it said, but she felt the call of sleep and did not fight its peaceful grasp.

!

 **Thank you once again for being patient with me and my sporadic updates. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! The battle was very hard to write but the ending was so exciting it took a bit to not get carried away with it. Please let me know what you think! Will Lyra's secret be found out? Until next time…**


	14. Miss Fraser

**Chapter Fourteen – Miss Fraser**

!

" _For there to be betrayal, there would have to have been trust first_." ― Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games

!

There was white all around her. The air seemed thin and clear, nothing like the smell of the battle she'd been fighting. Her mouth was dry, her head pounding and her body felt like nothing she had ever experienced before. Her arms were heavy but through her fingers she could feel a soft material beneath her hands. She was on a bed, she realised. The white began to make shapes and soon she understood she was in a tent.

In Kili's tent. Lyra tried to sit up, sudden recollection of the battle and the king coming back to her in a panic, but her body protested and she felt an overwhelmingly horrible sensation at her side. She looked down and noticed bandages wrapped around her lower body, her breast bindings the only other thing she seemed to be wearing on her top half. Lyra cried out involuntarily and clutched at the injury, closing her eyes as the throbbing from the wound rolled over her in waves of pain. She heard the tent open.

"Oh thank Mahal," Kili mumbled, moving quickly to the side of the bed and perching upon the edge gently. "Sit back or you'll open the wound again," he told her sternly, guiding her shoulders so that she laid back on the bed. Lyra let out a breath, forcing her body to relax.

"What happened?" she asked dumbly, "I just remember the mill…" her thoughts drifted off, trying to pull together fragmented memories of a half conscious state.

"You were wounded fighting the orcs," Kili told her looking grim. "Uncle told me of your bravery in facing them, though he hasn't said much about you since…" it was Kili's turn to drift off, looking at her in concern.

"Since what?" she asked slowly, completely not understanding the prince.

"You were dying," he told her with strained edge, not answering her question. Kili grabbed her hand and held it firmly. "I mean, you fell to the floor, covered in your own blood. So we had to stop the bleeding and the only way to do that was to take off your amour and clothing…"

"Everyone saw me unclothed?" Lyra asked, embarrassment stupidly flushing her face, even though she knew it had been necessary to save her life.

"You had your wrapping around your-" Kili gestured wildly to his chest, making an unsubtle cupping motion "-but you are a woman and… that is very clear when you are mostly unclothed." Kili did not mean anything other than to state a fact that Lyra could certainly not deny. In the past year alone she had grown more curvaceous and womanly, and the idea of everyone seeing this was embarrassing.

But not just embarrassing. Lyra's brain was working slowly, and her mind began to catch up with what Kili said. She looked at him with wide eyes. "So everyone knows?" she felt sick at the idea.

"Well, yes," he said looking upset. "And uncle is particularly angry."

"What of the battle?" Lyra looked at Kili's expression to see if there was any hint of sadness.

"We won," he said gravely, "but many brave men and dwarves lost their life. Prince Edvard was killed on the field, as was his general, and the rest of the army fled from the field. Fili has gone to Urbem to claim victory for Erebor and reseat the king upon the throne." Kili smiled wanly at Lyra; the bittersweet victory of a war hard won.

"Do you know if my friend, Thomas…?"

"Oh aye, he's fine," the dark haired prince told her wryly. "Tried to see you but wasn't allowed."

It was then that Lyra noticed then that there was muttering from outside the tent.

"Whose out there?" Lyra looked to the tent flap which was blowing in the breeze revealing a mixture of boots standing in the mud.

Kili paused for a moment and looked at her with an unreadable expression. "They are guards," he told her plainly.

"Guarding what?"

"You," he said with guilt. "You broke the law Lyra... but I think they are just there to make sure you don't leave the tent and cause more trouble." Lyra blinked at Kili but nodded her understanding.

"I suppose I knew it would end this way," she said, closing her eyes against the throbbing in her head that had started again.

"But it won't be the end because of Uncle," Kili stressed, "He… well, he has vouched for you."

Kili stopped speaking in riddles then and told Lyra what had happened since she fell unconscious. Kili had insisted she be treated as any other soldier, so they had stitched her up and Kili had offered his own tent to allow her to heel. Word had spread around the camp that the soldier who had been selected by the Dale battalion was actually a female. The King of Dale was furious that this had been allowed to happen. Kili was scared that they may make an example of Lyra, and had convinced Thorin that there was a danger of Lyra's execution.

So the King under the Mountain, although angry himself at the betrayal, had decided to tell all of the bravery of this female soldier. Of how she had saved the crown prince with her knowledge of the local herbs, had done a fine job in guarding and advising Kili on his ambassador mission to Urbem, how Lyra had stayed to gather much needed information at great personal risk to herself; information of which helped them win the war. In addition to all that, she then rode the King of Erebor from battle when he was wounded, tended his wounds and fought orcs alone to save said king; and may be on her death bed as they spoke.

"It is needless to say that the King of Dale decided to leave the question of punishment to Thorin," Kili finished. "But he has not decide yet. He wishes to speak with you first. Until then, you are under our care." The dark haired prince looked resolute this statement. "This does mean, though that you are no long a soldier of Dale, but are under the law of Erebor." Only those who marry into a dwarven family are held under the laws of dwarves, and Lyra found this idea hard to get around her throbbing head.

"Did you get in trouble for knowing?" she asked her friend with concern, rubbing at her eyes to dispel the pressure.

"Fili did. Uncle was furious that Fili had known and let you fight," Kili told her. "I think he just expects me to make decisions like that, but Fili he thought better of. That is why he has been sent to deal with the mess at Urbem."

"But it was my choice," she argued.

"But we could have stopped you really, and we probably should have." Kili looked at Lyra's bandaged stomach with guilt. "But then again, you saved Uncle's life. _Twice._ So I can't quite bring myself to regret that." Kili gave Lyra a shy smile.

Lyra felt exhaustion and Kili left her soon after that so she might sleep. Lyra fell into unconsciousness quickly and without mercy and slept so deeply she could not be woken.

When she did wake it was in the night and with beads of sweat upon her brow. There were a few candles alight in her room so that she could see the surroundings. She sat up in the bed and heaved her empty stomach, bile the only thing she could vomit. Her sides burned as if they were on fire and her stomach convulsed again, trying to rid it of an invisible poison. Lyra noticed the flaps of the tent open and close briefly, but chose to direct her attention to the cup of water by her bed.

She drunk from the cup slowly, not wishing for it to leave her stomach, and wet her dry lips with her tongue. All she could seem to think was how hot it was and that she needed to get out from the thick quilt upon the bed. She tried to pulled them off but her wound protested and instead she lay still and wimped at the sharp stabbing motion. When it abated she reached for the cup of water again and took long sips.

Thus was her state when the King under the Mountain entered the tent.

He was alone and was dressed in a long, fur back coat and had a wooden walking stick at his side. Lyra noticed how well he was on his feet and was glad she was right in her assessment that it wasn't as bad as it could have been. He did not say anything but just watched her with a frown. Lyra was suddenly aware of her undressed state, it not having bothered her before with Kili, and pulled the covers up to her to preserve any semblance she had left of her modesty.

"Your majesty," she crocked out, her voice raw and dryer than she'd expected, but stared at the King with resolve.

He studied her coldly as she said this but did not deem to give a response. Lyra repressed the urge to explain herself, to defend her decision, so instead took another drink from the water. When she finished it, she placed it on the bedside table with shaking hands wishing for more. Her stomach felt as if it wanted to reject the liquid, but she pushed the feeling down and held her head high, her labored breathing evident in her rapidly rising chest. Sweat was gathering on her forehead and she felt a droplet roll down her chin.

Eventually Thorin let out a long suffering sign and pick up a seat from the table in the corner of the tent. He placed it at the foot of the bed and sat down, continuing to stare at Lyra with severe intensity. Lyra, still feeling as if she were going to throw up her gut, decided that she must keep face in front of this dwarf lest she lose all the respect for her he may still hold. She moved beneath the covers to sit straighter, gritting her teeth at the pain of her wound being agitated, and looked back at the king with a deep breath and a shiver.

Thorin watched Lyra's movement curiously and she thought she might have seen a flash of concern pass across his face, but disappeared as soon as it came. Lyra, feeling exhaustion slowing creeping up on her, decided to break the silence.

"Prince Kili was here and told me of what has happened," she said in the clearest, strongest voice she could muster, which wasn't so clear and sounded shaky and weak. "I am told what happens next is down to your discretion."

Thorin gave a hum of acknowledgement at her statement and the room fell into a tense silence as Lyra waited in baited breath at what he might say.

"Were there any truths?" he asked her eventually.

"There was only ever one lie," she replied, rubbing her hand across her forehead as the sweat collected. She pulled the covers closer to herself, feeling the cold of the night acutely. "It was just a big one."

"And tell me, _Miss_ Frasier, where does one big lie end?" spat the king, his suppressed anger coming out suddenly, seemingly unexpected to himself as well.

Lyra shook her head, trying to dislodge the fog that clouded her brain. "It was never supposed to go this far, I was only ever supposed to save them," she muttered, half delirious in her fevered state. "I just wanted to…" she drifted off as she took a deep breath, a wave of nausea rolling over her.

The king seemed to sense something was amiss and when Lyra put her hand upon her mouth to fall stall the vomit, he moved with surprising quickness to get her a bucket that sat at the base of the bed. Lyra emptied out the water she had just drunk into the bucket, wave after wave forcing out ever drop that may have hydrated her.

Lyra took huge a gulping breath, shaking her head as tears began to roll down her face. She was so cold; could the king not see that? "I just needed to save them…" Lyra said to the bucket, her breath catching in a sob as she clutched her bucket of bile. "But I also wanted to do the right thing…"

Lyra's brain began to fog beyond any cognitive ability; she remembered someone taking the bucket from her and the voice of King above her head. He sounded concerned and there was a shout. She felt a cold hand on her forehead and with weak arms tried to bat it away; she was cold enough already.

She reached up and took the hand in her own, holding it close to her face and trying to get across something important but not quiet remember what it was. She shifted in and out of consciousness after this and caught snippets of conversation. Sometimes she would awaken but she was quickly given a bitter tasting liquid and would fall back into a black slumber in moments.

"…tomorrow we will go…"

"…could kill her! Stay here…"

"…getting worse. The infection…"

"…you'll be home tomorrow Lyra; back in Erebor. I promise."

!

Lyra awoke in a warm, dark room. She was disorientated beyond belief; not understanding how she had gotten there. She remembered very little of anything and knew only how thirsty she felt. Had everything been a dream; the mountain, the king, the battle? After a few moments to adjust, she realized that the room was in fact not dark but was alight with candles and a fire glowing with hot embers from the corner.

Lyra could hear a soft hum from outside the room, coming in through the ajar door on the far side. She tried to sit up but felt too tired and weak, and instead her body gave a soft cough. Her throat was so dry and she looked about for water, noticing the old wooden furnishings as she did. Her coughing seemed to alert someone and Lyra heard the humming stop and quick steps towards where she rested.

From the door frame there appear a darrowdam with red hair and a round face. "Oh lassie, you're awake, praise be," spoke a thick accent Lyra recognized.

"Far?" Lyra crocked, recognizing Moe's wife and becoming even more confused to where she was.

"Oh aye lass, it's me," she said gently. Far sat down on a stool by her bed quietly, lifted a cup of water from the table and fed it to Lyra very slowly.

"How long was I…?" Lyra couldn't finish her sentence as her body shook with a cough as the water caught in her lungs.

"You're back in Erebor now, been about ten days I should say since you got yourself in a sorry state." Far spoke quietly and softly as if speaking to a small child as she patted Lyra's back as her body shook. Predicting her next question, the red haired darrowdam continued, "they moved you when they realized there was an infection. First you were to die from your wounds and then you were to die from the infection. But I said, no she's a strong one, and here we are." Far's voice sounded very somber, tinged with a sadness that hadn't been there before.

Lyra looked around the room, at the homely furnishing and small space. "Am I in your home?" she asked.

"I insisted I nurse you, since your sister wasn't allowed to see you," Far told her. "I said, she should wake to a friendly face, I told them. Prince Kili agreed of course and you've been here for four days now. Your fever broke two days ago now I should say."

Lyra was deeply touched by the darrowdam's kindness and tears began to build in her eyes. "Thank you," she said in a thick voice, "are you not angry at me for lying?"

Lyra had left awfully bad about the deception, but mostly to Moe and Thomas who she knew were her good friends. Far chuckled slightly at her question. "Lassie, you may have been able to fool a king, two princes, your comrades and even an entire army," she said wryly, "but I knew as soon as you walked through my door you were a girl."

Lyra looked at the female dwarf before her and a small smile began to make its way onto her lips. "Really?" Lyra asked, a small laugh bubbling on the end of her tongue.

"The male species cannot see two feet before their nose," Far told her and the two of them giggled together, the world outside the little room suddenly unimportant. "It is good to laugh, doesn't seem like there are enough reasons at the moment."

"Why? Has something happened?" Lyra asked, noting the somberness once again of the usually firey woman.

"Now never you worry," she muttered, "I best get the soup on for supper as you're awake." Far began to stand but was halted when Lyra weakly reach out to touch the redheads hand.

"Is Moe about?" Lyra said, not understanding. Far's face crumbled at this and a lump of dread formed in Lyra's throat. "Far, what happened?" Lyra rasped.

"Oh lass, it was the River Flu," she told her, clutching Lyra's hand hard in her. "He was well one minute and then the next; gone." Far began to weep and Lyra felt her own well up with tears.

"When?"

"Oh not long after the army marched from Erebor, three weeks maybe now? The days are long, but I've got Merl to look after and…" Far continued to silently cry and all Lyra could do was clutch the darrowdams hands strongly in her own.

"You should not have taken me in, I do not wish to be a burden," Lyra told her, feeling immensely guilty for having taken a bed in her house.

"Oh hush now, Moe wouldn't have had it any other way, and nor would I," Far reassured, blotting her eyes with the sleeve of her dress. "It's been a good distraction having you here I should think. Right, now I really must get this soup on otherwise it'll be too late to eat." Far swept from the room quickly and Lyra lay in bed listening to the rustle of pans in the kitchen.

Moe had died. The concept sat strangely in Lyra's mind like a stone. The young Fraser was an old friend to death but every time someone passed Lyra felt as if a little piece of her soul had gone with them. The grief sat in Lyra's chest, bubbling up her throat until she found herself sobbing into the pillow.

She sobbed for her friend she'd lost. She sobbed for what could have been but won't be anymore. She sobbed because she was in pain, because life was unfair, because her sister was probably worried sick. Lastly, she sobbed for the way the king had looked at her with bitter distrust and because she knew she deserved his loathing.

!

 **Thank you for reading and staying with the story so far! I hope you liked this chapter and the angsty moments I couldn't help but include :3 I love knowing your opinions and theories so please leave a review and tell me your thought. Please forgive any misspelling or grammatical errors. I'll update again soon! Until next time...**


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